


The Ink Dark Moon

by Miko



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Bondage, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Rope Bondage, Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Werewolves, Youkai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 10:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18466666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: Wolf youkai Hanzo has sought only solitude since the disastrous battle with his brother Genji, that resulted in the nekomata's death. Roaming the world, he finds himself settling in a remote area of what humans call the Wild West. It has everything he could ask for; a forest with abundant food, a local wolf pack who are willing to accept him as a friend and ally, and most of all, peace and quiet. Until a gravely injured coyote shifter stumbles almost into his lap, chased by a pack of vicious wolfman creatures.The last thing Jesse McCree ever expected was to find somewhere he wanted to call 'home' again. He's lost too many people that he cared about over the years, and he'd thought he was permanently gunshy. Hanzo is standoffish and arrogant, but Jesse can see there's so much more beneath the wolf's harsh surface. The more he learns of who Hanzo really is, the harder Jesse starts to fall.Problem is, Jesse may well be infected by the werewolf virus in the wake of the attack. And if that isn't enough to tear them apart, the truth of Hanzo's past might be, when Jesse finally discovers how the man is connected to his former packmate Genji. Is love enough to hold them together?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the McHanzo Big Bang challenge. I was lucky enough to have two amazing artists assigned to me, [Huna](hunahuna-un.tumblr.com) and [SpookandShook](http://lovekissedintoskin.tumblr.com). The pics will be scattered through the story, but I highly encourage you to check out their other works on their Tumblrs!

 

 

For decades, Hanzo Shimada had sought only peace. Outer peace, a quiet place where he would be left alone to his contemplation; but also inner peace, surcease from the endless guilt and grief that plagued his soul. 

The youkai had wandered Japan for a time, but everyone there had heard the tale of the Shimada brothers, and the horrific end to their story. Other youkai and even small kami sought him out, wanting to know what really happened, revelling in the sordid story. 

As if it was something to be proud of. As if Hanzo wanted to brag about how he'd slaughtered his brother in a fit of rage, destroyed the very thing most important to him.

Even hiding away on the most remote mountain peak in the country wasn't enough to keep the determined curiosity-seekers at bay, and finally Hanzo left the islands entirely. He wandered the world, aimless and forever lost, not caring where he went or what happened to him in the process. At least nobody knew who he was.

Now he was very nearly as far from his home as it was possible to be, in the wild heart of America. This place, with its endless oceans of prairie and dramatically rugged mountain ranges, was very different from his home in Hanamura. The desert was inhospitable to him, and the open plains left him itching with the knowledge that he was far too exposed, so Hanzo settled in a thick forest on the lower slope of a mountain at the edge of the prairie.

He hadn't intended to stay long, but 'long' was relative for a being who could potentially measure his lifespan in millennia. 

Hanzo found a cave system, which provided shelter from the thunderous storms that could sweep through the area. A small river of crystal clear water ran through the back of the cave, with a little pool at one end that was perfect for bathing. There was an endless supply of firewood in the forest around him, taken from fallen branches and downed trees so that he wouldn't offend the unseen kami of the woods. Food was bountiful, the chase fun but not too challenging, as a wolf or with his bow. 

Most of all, there was a local wolf pack, small but tightly knit, who accepted him readily into their territory. Hanzo could easily have dominated them, become their alpha and had them living with and around him, but he preferred his solitude and left them in peace as well. They would visit occasionally, helping to stave off the worst of the loneliness that came of being a hermit, but left when he made it clear he wanted to be alone.

He couldn't have asked for a better refuge from the rest of the world. Despite his intentions, Hanzo found himself settling in; he built drying racks for food and tanning, storage that was secure from the local insects and animals, and even travelled up to the eternal snowline to get ice for an insulated icebox. He constructed a proper futon, wove 'tatami' mats from fibrous vines, and slowly turned his temporary rest stop into a home.

All in all, it was ideal. Until the human came crashing into his clearing, staggering and half dead, eyes wild with panic.

Leaping to his feet, Hanzo snatched up his bow and nocked an arrow, drawing back to sight on the intruder. Immediately he revised his snap judgement of the man. This was no ordinary human; though he walked on two legs and was shaped and dressed like the annoying short-lived monkeys, he also had a fluffy tail tucked in tight against his legs, and pointed furry ears that were flattened in fear on top of his head. 

The man was bleeding heavily from multiple wounds, savage tears in his limbs that had clearly come from claws and teeth, along with smaller cuts and scrapes from running heedlessly through the dense forest undergrowth. 

He stared at Hanzo in blank incomprehension, and truthfully Hanzo wasn't sure the man even saw him. Shock, exhaustion, and blood loss seemed to rob him of whatever intelligence he might normally have possessed, and he swayed on his feet. He gasped for air like he was drowning, clothes soaked in sweat where they weren't soaked in blood, and he'd run his boots ragged.

Then Hanzo heard the baying of wolves in the forest, and he understood why the creature looked like a pack of oni were chasing him. Those weren't Hanzo’s wolves, the natural kind. His wolves would certainly run lone, injured prey to the ground if given the chance, but they would have caught and killed the man long ago. Not tortured him by chasing him, forever just behind him, giving him false hope that he might yet outrun his horrific fate.

These were the shape-shifting wolves native to Europe and now America, human in their other form but otherwise bearing no resemblance to a youkai spirit like Hanzo. Theirs was a vile sickness, the scent repulsive to Hanzo, which infected normal humans and drove them slowly mad until their entire existence was drowned in bloodlust. He could hear that insane excitement in their howls, as they realized they'd run their prey to ground once and for all.

The stranger heard it too, because he turned and took up a fighting stance. At least, Hanzo assumed it was meant to be a fighting stance, with his hands up in fists by his face. It looked far too closed-in and unsteady to Hanzo's martial-arts eye, but the intention behind it was clear enough. Though the man was all but dead from exhaustion and injury already, he clearly intended to go down fighting.

Little as Hanzo wanted to get involved in the affairs of the world, he had to admire the creature's spirit. Reluctantly. Besides, if the man died here, he'd get blood and viscera all over the clearing. It would stink no matter how well Hanzo tried to clear the area, and attract insects and wild predators. There was a reason he did his butchering in a more distant area.

Sighing, he drew back the bowstring, sighting just past the strange creature's shoulder, where the chasing pack were creeping through the trees, still hidden by the undergrowth. "Begone," he commanded in the local tongue, putting all of his considerable power and authority into his tone. 

The man jumped, as if he really hadn't seen Hanzo there until he spoke. Edging sideways, he got Hanzo in his line of sight without taking his eyes off the place where the sick wolves gathered. "Love to, darlin'," the man rasped, his voice like a rusty sword scraping over its scabbard. "But I'm a little pinned down, if ya hadn't noticed." 

He swayed again and nearly stumbled, but caught himself against a tree trunk. He was on his last legs, and looked nervous, like he thought Hanzo was aiming at him. Well, he'd certainly taken Hanzo's command as directed at him. Given how dazed he was, perhaps he couldn't see exactly where the arrow was pointed.

The underbrush rustled, and Hanzo narrowed his eyes as his fingers tightened on the arrow. "I said, begone," he repeated, and let the ghostly blue energy that was his birthright begin to gather around him. The spirit wolves were hungry, eager for prey, spoiling for a fight. "This is my territory, and you are intruding upon it. You are not welcome here."

Before the man could respond again, one of the vile wolves crept out of the trees and made himself visible. He was a twisted monstrosity, neither wolf nor man, taking the worst aspects of both and smashing them together into a creature that should never have existed. He had a wolf's muzzle and teeth, melded with an otherwise human face. The appendages at the ends of his arms were neither paw nor hand, though the claws were certainly deadly enough. 

It was a form designed for hunting, Hanzo realized. For rending its prey into shreds of meat and cracked bone. There was nothing natural about it, and the whole thing screamed ‘abomination’ to Hanzo's offended sensibility. 

The monster couldn't speak with the jaws and tongue of a wolf; before their eyes, the muzzle shortened, lips gaining more flexibility and control, until he could shape human words and be understood. "That's where you're wrong, stranger. This here is Talon turf, has been for years, and you're the one intrudin'. Lucky us; the coyote here is barely a stringy mouthful, but with you as prey too, we'll be eatin' well tonight."

The rest of the pack spread out, moving to surround the clearing. Hanzo kept his gaze focused on the leader, letting them think he was unaware of the other threats. "I will warn you one last time. Begone from my sight, or I shall erase you from the sight of all." The blue energy built, roiling around him as the spirit wolves frolicked, eager to be released.

For the first time he saw a flicker of unease in the vile wolf's eyes, as it gazed at the seething power. Hanzo had already discovered that magic was rare here, compared to the kami-filled land where he'd grown up. Spirits were scarce, those who could use power few and far between. The strange man - coyote, whatever that was - stared at the power too, with a sort of sick fascination.

Then one of the flankers snapped a twig, directly behind Hanzo, and the sharp sound seemed to embolden the vile wolf. "Get 'im, boys!" the creature snarled, and let its jaw elongate again as it howled a warped hunting song.

With a howling cry of his own, Hanzo dodged to the side, avoiding the clumsy leap of the creature behind him. This one was fully wolf-shaped, but it carried the same stench of sickness as the twisted one. Hanzo let his momentum carry him into a roll, then came up into a half-kneeling posture, at the edge of the clearing. Since all of the hunting pack had attempted to attack him, that left them milling in a confused mob in the center, having not yet realized where he'd gone.

Snarling, Hanzo poured all of his power into the arrow as he released it. "Ookami yo waga teki wo kurae!" The arrow buried itself squarely in the twisted wolf's heart, and Hanzo's spirits burst free to continue on through the rest of the pack.

Screams and cries rose from the suddenly panicked attackers, as their fellows were disintegrated one by one. There was nowhere for them to go, not enough room for any of them to run fast enough to escape the spirits, and Hanzo's wolves feasted well. By the time they reached the far side of the clearing and began to dissipate, there was nothing left of any of the hunting pack.

Briefly, he considered letting them take care of the final intruder as well. The coyote cringed against the tree he clung to for support, clearly expecting to be devoured. It would certainly simplify the situation, and Hanzo wouldn't have to worry about what to do with the creature.

But he remembered that fighting spirit, beaten ragged but not broken, and directed the wolves away from the coyote.

"You," Hanzo growled, trying to draw the coyote's attention. "Come here."

The man opened the eyes he'd squeezed closed, blinked a couple of times like he couldn't believe he was still alive, then turned his shocked gaze toward Hanzo. He didn't release his death grip on the tree, or show any sign of wanting to obey Hanzo's command. 

For a moment Hanzo wondered if the coyote had even heard him, but then the man shook his head and replied. "Uh. No offense, but I think you might actually be scarier than they were. Since you were nice enough not to kill me and all, how 'bout I just mosey on outta here and leave you be, like you asked in the first place?"

The coyote spoke in a strange way, a dialect Hanzo hadn't encountered when he'd learned the English tongue. It took Hanzo a moment to realize the man was suggesting he leave. "If you can take more than three steps without falling over, I'll be shocked," he replied. Come to think of it, perhaps demanding the creature come to him was inconsiderate. "Sit, then, if you will not come."

A flicker of annoyance crossed the man's features. "I ain't a dog, t'be told to sit pretty," he snapped. The brief show of anger appeared to exhaust the last dregs of his energy, and his weary legs gave way beneath him, dumping him onto his ass. Chagrined, he leaned his shoulder against the tree. "Or I could just sit like I'm told, I guess. Actually, maybe I'll just take a nap. It's awful comfy right here."

"Do not go to sleep," Hanzo said, but the coyote's eyes were already sliding closed, and he slumped bonelessly against the tree trunk. Sighing, Hanzo approached and crouched before the creature, studying him.

On closer examination, the coyote reeked of sweat and fear and blood. Beneath the recent damage, his clothes were already ragged. Reaching out, Hanzo fingered the edge of one rolled up sleeve, and confirmed that it was cheap, rough cotton, worn thin from frequent wear.

Whoever the man was, whatever type of creature he might be, he was poor. Presumably he was usually able to hide his inhuman features, or else there was a community near here that was far more friendly to the supernatural than other settlements Hanzo had encountered in the New World. Or perhaps the strange man stole his clothing from the humans, if he was not able to walk among them to trade and barter.

His ears and tail bore some resemblance to a wolf's, and another person might have thought him a wolf in truth, but his scent was wrong. Hanzo had caught scents similar to this from time to time as he travelled this land, and the creatures it belonged to were rather like a cross between a small wolf and a very large fox. Coyotes, apparently. There was no trace of the twisted illness that the attacking wolf pack carried, though there were the first hints of infection from the wounds. It looked like the pack had been running the man for many hours, perhaps even a day or more, chasing him for the fun of it rather than a true hunt.

Mind made up, Hanzo pushed to his feet again. He'd let the coyote live, and now the man was his responsibility, at least until the stranger was well enough to leave. He would need to find medicinal herbs and make a poultice for those infected injuries, provide the creature with water and food and blankets. Such a bother. Really, he should have let the wolves eat this one, too.

He could still let them out again to do so... but he sensed their reluctance, and it matched his own. Hunting enemies foolish enough to attack him was one thing. Slaughtering an injured creature was another. It wasn't as if Hanzo had never killed anyone for being an annoyance before, and he might yet kill the creature out of mercy if the injuries proved too severe. 

But there was still that fighting spirit, plus a sort of desperate hope when the coyote realized that Hanzo hadn't killed him along with the wolves.

No, Hanzo couldn't kill the creature out of hand. He wanted to find out more, see what the man was like when he wasn't about to die. Hanzo never sought out the company of others, but he supposed it might do him some good to interact with an intelligent being for a few days. Loneliness was the least of the punishments Hanzo deserved for his past actions, but perhaps this once he could make an exception to his solitude.

Just for a little while.


	2. Chapter 2

In all honesty, Jesse McCree had never expected to open his eyes again. He couldn't remember why it was shocking when he realized he was drifting toward wakefulness, but he was certain the fact of him being alive was quite the surprise.

More than alive; he was warm and as comfortable as it was possible to be when your body was one big pile of shredded meat. Jesse healed faster than a human, but nowhere near the speed of a powerful werewolf. He vaguely recalled injuries that should have completely debilitated him, and he was certain those Talon bastards wouldn't have bothered making him comfortable. Yet he could hear the snap and crackle of a campfire nearby, smell the scent of rabbit roasting over the flames. 

The cooking scent made his stomach knot up, reminding him how empty it was, and how much energy he'd used up with all that running. His mouth and throat burned with dryness, not so much as a drop of moisture available to wet his cracked lips. When he dragged his eyes open, he found himself lying on his side, facing a small, tidy fire, neatly surrounded by rocks, with a solid-looking spit propped up over it holding the rabbit.

Instinct made him try to lunge for the food, but he'd barely moved before his muscles cramped and injuries howled a protest. Biting back a whimper, Jesse subsided.

"Be still."

The deep, authoritative voice held an unmistakable note of command, yet there was a hint of concern beneath the harshness. It was the tone of an alpha wolf ordering his lesser packmate to do something for their own good, not that of an enemy who was angry with him for moving. Jesse whimpered again, unable to stop the memory of the last time he'd heard that tone.

The voice in his memory was deeper, gruffer, and desperately missed. Gabriel Reyes had been one of the rare good werewolves, a stern but fair leader, and he'd cared fiercely for the pack of misfits he'd created. Jesse had been one of those misfits, a coyote taken in and cared for instead of being chased away or eaten, against all the laws of nature. He owed Gabriel everything, and he'd failed his alpha so badly.

But that had been years ago, and there was a much more immediate concern. Turning his head carefully, Jesse spotted the strange-looking man kneeling on the opposite side of a small cave, grinding away at something with a mortar and pestle. The faint scent of astringent herbs carried over the mouth-watering rabbit smell. 

The stranger was Asian, with golden skin and eyes that tilted more at the corners than the shape Jesse was used to. He wore some outlandish outfit, a robe crossed over and tied at his waist with full pants beneath, but it was the perfectly preserved wolf's head ‘hood’ that drew Jesse's eyes.

The guy smelled like a wolf, too - not like a tanned hide, but the most intensely _wolf_ scent Jesse had ever encountered. Yet, at the same time, there was a sort of... ghostly quality to the scent, there but not there, as if it wasn't quite part of the real world.

Jesse had smelled that sort of thing before, on others in his misfit pack. Moira, the Cu Sidhe, was a black dog death spirit, and she'd had that otherworldy smell to her. But this was even more similar to the scent Genji had carried, one he'd said was an indication of a certain type of spirit in his homeland. Yokee, or some such. Was that what the stranger was?

The man was staring at him now, not saying anything further. It seemed rude to just keep staring back, so Jesse finally spoke. "Howdy." 

The word rasped so badly in his dry throat, even he could hardly understand it. He tried to swallow, but there was still no moisture available. He'd backtracked up and down streams and creeks whenever he encountered them in his mad dash for freedom, scooping up a handful of water here and there as he did so, but it hadn't been nearly enough.

Damn forest, with all its twists and turns and trees and bushes in the way, no straight lines for a poor coyote to build up some speed. Jesse was agile, not strong, and he had no hope against a pack of werewolves unless he could outrun them. On the plains, he might've had a chance, but not in the dense underbrush.

This stranger had saved his life, no doubt about it. The question was, why? And what was he going to expect in return?

Setting aside the mortar with the herbs, the guy stood and made his way over to Jesse's side, where he folded himself back into a kneeling position. It was the same way Genji used to sit, toes tucked beneath him and back ramrod straight. Leaning to the side, the man did something out of Jesse's field of view, and the quiet trickle of water falling reached his ears.

If he'd thought his throat felt dry before, that was nothing compared to when he heard the water. He opened his mouth to try to plead for some, but nothing came out except a strangled sound. Then the guy lifted a soaked scrap of cloth, holding it to Jesse's lips so that the water dripped into his mouth. "Drink," he commanded, his voice deep and firm.

Jesse sucked down the precious life-giving liquid as fast as it dribbled past his lips. It was a damn tease, like a saloon gal dancing on your lap with no intention of taking you upstairs, enough to whet the appetite but not nearly enough to sate it. When he tried to lift his head to get more, however, agonizing pain lanced across his back, and he subsided with a groan.

"I said, be still." Planting one hand on Jesse's shoulder, the man held him down while he rewet the cloth and brought it back to Jesse's lips. "You are very injured."

"Y'don't say," Jesse drawled, and this time the words were more understandable. He sucked at the cloth again, and they repeated the odd little ritual a few more times, until it finally felt like he wasn't dry as the desert all the way through.

"That's enough for now," the man said, and set the cloth aside. "You'll make yourself sick if you have too much, too fast. I am already cleaning up quite enough messes because of you."

Jesse winced. "Yeah, uh, sorry 'bout that. I had no idea you were out here, was just runnin' any which way. Thanks for savin' my life and all. I'm Jesse. Jesse McCree."

There was a pause, like the guy was debating whether Jesse deserved his name in return. Or maybe whether he should lie about it. Moira had said that in her culture, 'true names' held a great deal of power. Genji had never commented about it, but maybe there was some similar belief in Asia.

After a moment, the wolf dipped his head in a regal half-bow. "You may call me Hanzo."

The name made Jesse jump, which in turn made him groan in pain. "Huh. How 'bout that. I only know two Japanese names, and that's one of 'em. Is that what you are? Japanese?" 

Obviously this guy couldn't be Genji's asshole brother. Genji had smelled like a cat, and on the rare occasions he'd discussed his past before 'becoming an oni', he'd mentioned cats once or twice. This Hanzo was wolf all the way through, no doubt about it. For all Jesse knew, it was as common a name as 'John' was in these parts.

"You have known others of my countrymen?" Hanzo looked surprised. "They were a long way from home."

"He was, but I guess that's how he liked it." Jesse shook his head, and immediately regretted it as agony spiked down his spine. He paused for a moment to get his breath back and be sure he wasn't about to vomit. "Guessin' you're the same. I really didn't mean to intrude on your solitude. Thanks for savin' me. I owe you."

"You do, indeed," Hanzo agreed, stern and solemn. Jesse's heart sank. Here it came - the price tag. Nobody ever did nothing for free.

Except the incredibly rare person who did, and they might as well be unicorns for all the likelihood of meeting one. Jesse had been privileged enough to know one, in Reyes. It was highly unlikely he'd ever meet another. "I'll pay you back, but I got hard lines I won't cross," he said, hoping to head Hanzo off at the pass on certain expectations. 

Hanzo moved over to the fire, turning the rabbit on the spit so it would roast more on the other side. He cocked his head at Jesse. "Do tell. What are your hard lines, then?" It sounded like he was mocking Jesse.

"I won't hurt innocents," Jesse said, as firm as he could be when he was arguing from a prone position and completely at the wolf's mercy. "No way, no how, and that includes stealin' from 'em." 

For some reason, people always seemed to think that being a coyote meant he would be a thief. Like his natural cousins, Jesse could be a playful trickster at times, and he couldn't say he'd _never_ stolen because that would be a lie. But he tried not to steal from the poor folk, the ones who would be harmed by losing even a little, and who hadn't done a damn thing to deserve that hardship.

"Is that all?" There was a definite gleam of amusement in Hanzo's eyes, though he kept his face stoic and neutral. 

After a moment of thought, Jesse added, "I won't let you hurt me or force me into sex, neither. Ain't nobody lays a hand on me without my permission, least not without a fight." He raised his chin, daring Hanzo to insist that the only thing Jesse had to pay him back with was his body. It was the truth, but that didn't mean Jesse would roll over and let the guy do anything he wanted.

Of course, the irony was that if _not_ forced, fucking a guy that hot would be anything but a hardship. It had been a long dry spell for Jesse, and Hanzo's quiet strength drew him like a moth to the flame, but attraction didn't make it okay for Hanzo to be an ass about demanding it.

"I see." Settling down where he'd been to start with, Hanzo returned to grinding up whatever herbs he had in the mortar. "I'm not sure whether those stipulations say more about you, or what you think of me. Very well, then. Here are my terms. You will serve me by tending camp, cooking food, and doing other chores as directed and as your injuries permit. You will be quiet when told to be so, and not interrupt my meditations. You will tell me anything I ask about this area and the people in it, including those abominations that were chasing you. The new moon is in two nights; when the sky next holds an ink dark moon, you will be free from your duties to me. Is that acceptable?"

Jesse sorted through the list, trying to find a trap, and didn’t spot anything. "You want me to be your manservant for a month? That's it?" 

"Unless I tire of your company before then, which is quite possible," Hanzo agreed. "Do you accept?"

"Uh..." He still couldn't find the catch, and it was hard to believe that meant there wasn't one, but Jesse didn't see any way out of it. "Yeah, okay. You realize I ain't gonna be much good as a servant until I heal up? It'll take a few days, at least." 

"I assumed as much. That is why I am making a poultice, to prevent infection." Hanzo indicated the mortar in his hands. "I thought it best to wait until you woke to administer it, in case you have adverse reactions to some medications."

It took Jesse a second to work through that. Considering English wasn't Hanzo's first language, the guy sure knew a lot of fancy words in it. "Anything you can use on a normal human will work on me, if that's what you're askin'."

"Excellent. The paste is ready. Lie on your front, and I will change your bandages." Hanzo got up again, padding over to Jesse's side. "Are you a shapeshifter? Can you take full human form?"

Groaning, Jesse carefully rolled onto his front. The worst injuries were all on his back where the wolf pack had torn and nipped at him whenever they caught up to him, before letting him go again. But he'd taken a bruising and more than a few cuts on the front from lashing branches and sharp leaves as he ran. He discovered he was lying on several layers of blankets and furs, over a stuffed mattress of some kind. Crossing his arms in front of him, he rested his cheek on his forearms, looking back over his shoulder at Hanzo as best he could.

"I can shift into a full coyote, but I can't go any more human than this." he replied. He had to speak through gritted teeth as Hanzo began to peel off his current bandages, many of which were stuck to his torn flesh with dried blood. "I was born with the ears and tail, I ain't like the werewolves you saw earlier. Ma swore up and down my dad was some kinda medicine man, but it was a one night stand and she couldn't find him after to ask 'what the fuck'. I hide the ears with a cowboy hat and the tail in my pants if I gotta go into town for somethin', but mostly I stay out in the wild."

"Werewolves. Those are the creatures that attacked you?" With a cloth and bowl of water - hopefully not the same ones he'd been dripping water into Jesse's mouth with - Hanzo began to wash the wounds. 

Somehow, Jesse kept himself still, though he wanted to jerk away from the pain of the cloth on his raw flesh. He wasn't sure if Hanzo was questioning him because he actually wanted the information so bad he couldn't wait until Jesse wasn't groaning in pain, or if it was because he was trying to distract Jesse. 

"Yep." Jesse hissed through his teeth as a particularly sore spot protested. "It's a sickness, some kinda virus that gets passed through being bitten. _If_ you survive an attack at all, and the damage was bad enough, first full moon you turn into a ravening fucking beast. They can learn to control themselves most of the time, though a lot of 'em don't bother, just let the monster run wild."

"It sounds foul. They certainly smell repulsive enough." Hanzo grunted. "How bad is 'bad enough', in terms of damage? You are very injured, and I see several bite marks."

Jesse had been trying very hard not to think about that. "No idea. Guess you might wanna tie me up on the night of the full moon, just in case." Two days to the new moon, and two weeks after until the full moon. Sixteen short days until he knew if he would become one of the monsters.

"Han, if that does happen..." Jesse swallowed hard. "Promise you'll put me out of my misery. I don't want to hurt people, and I'm scared I'm too lily-livered to do the deed myself." He'd thought about it a few times after the death of his pack, about throwing himself off a cliff or putting a gun to his head. But no matter how much he hated himself for being a coward and running off while his loved ones died, Jesse couldn't take that final step.

"My name is not 'Han', it is Hanzo," the wolf grumbled. "I will do as you ask. I would not loose such abomination on the world willingly, especially knowing you do not choose to live with it."

The promise let Jesse relax a tad, though he winced and tightened up again a moment later when Hanzo hit another sore spot. "Thanks. Appreciate it."

Now he just had to pray it wouldn't matter.


	3. Chapter 3

Hanzo was no expert in medicine, but he fancied himself competent to dress field wounds. He'd certainly gathered enough injuries over the years to get plenty of practice. He healed far faster than a human, much faster even than McCree, but it was possible for him to bleed out if he didn't stanch the wound.

His faith in his abilities seemed to be borne out over the next few days, as McCree’s injuries healed quickly and without complication. He would have scars, nasty ones all down his back, buttocks, and thighs, but it could have been far worse. Hanzo applied the herbal paste twice a day, morning and night, just to be sure.

It had been a very long time since he'd run his hands over another man's body. _Very_ long. Even before his self-imposed exile, Hanzo had been extremely picky about the quality of his bed partners. Unlike his feckless brother Genji; the randy cat would sleep with just about anyone and anything. Among youkai, 'anything' could be a very broad category indeed.

McCree was appealingly muscled, solid curves of flesh for Hanzo to run his fingers over as he applied the salve. The man's skin was darker than the ghost-pale people Hanzo had seen dominating this land, much warmer and more inviting in tone. As he healed, his whines and growls of pain at being touched turned to hums and groans of pleasure when Hanzo's hands kneaded his flesh. 

It was, perhaps, possible that Hanzo continued to apply the herbal salve after it was no longer required, simply for the excuse to touch. Had McCree not made it so clear that he did not wish any physical attention from Hanzo, he might have gone further, let his touch drift to less wounded places. But McCree _had_ made his wishes plain, and Hanzo would not force himself on the man.

If the attractive company was making him painfully aware of how long he'd denied himself pleasure, well, that was one more punishment for Hanzo's sins. 

Ordering the coyote to serve him for a month had been an impulsive move. McCree's certainty that Hanzo would demand _some_ service from him, and his 'hard lines' that spoke a great deal to his character, had intrigued Hanzo. He'd expected that he would regret it in short order. He was not a social person, never had been, even before he'd retreated into exile. 

To his surprise, he found himself genuinely enjoying the man's company. McCree was quite witty, with a sly sense of humour that he used to make fun of himself as often as anything else, inviting Hanzo to share the joke rather than mocking him. He was gregarious, but capable of being quiet when Hanzo demanded it, unlike most chatty people Hanzo had encountered. As he healed enough to take over some of the easier camp chores, McCree began to worm himself into the foundation of Hanzo's life, until it felt natural to have him there.

Perhaps that was only to be expected. Hanzo had spent the better part of two centuries with Genji at his side. At the time, Hanzo had thought he was frustrated and infuriated by Genji's constant talking and inability to take anything seriously, but after his brother was gone, Hanzo found himself fiercely missing the very things he'd hated most. McCree was not Genji, but he did share some of the nekomata's qualities.

Without, of course, the disdain and dislike that had grown slowly between Hanzo and Genji over the decades, poisoning their relationship, before that final, fateful fight. 

When Hanzo peeled back McCree's bandages on the morning of their fourth day together, he was forced to admit that his ruse must come to an end. The wounds were all sealed, angry red marks still showing where the flesh was healing, but the herbal salve would accomplish nothing. Well, nothing except making the coyote wrinkle his nose amusingly at the smell, and giving Hanzo the excuse to touch the other man. 

"You are healed enough to go without the bandages," Hanzo declared, carefully undoing the next one. "Do not over-exert yourself, lest you tear open the wounds again, but you should be able to move around without much difficulty now."

"Aw, no more back rubs, then?" McCree made a disappointed sound, then chuckled. "You got magic hands, darlin'. Ain't been so relaxed in half an age."

Flustered, Hanzo turned to set the bandages aside for washing, ignoring the teasing. McCree used endearments frequently, seemed incapable of simply using Hanzo's given name. It meant nothing. Nor did the fact that he'd apparently enjoyed the touch every bit as much as Hanzo had, though in a less intimate fashion.

"I suppose there is nothing stopping me from simply massaging the muscles, if you like." Wait, that was _not_ what he'd meant to say. Flushing Hanzo cleared his throat. "Ah. That is. If you're in pain, and it helps, of course I am willing to continue."

"Hardly seems fair, me bein' the only one to reap the benefits." McCree turned his head and gave Hanzo a bright smile. "I'd be happy to return the favour, y'know. At least, now that I can actually raise my arms more than an inch or two."

Have the coyote run his hands all over Hanzo in turn? It was difficult enough for Hanzo to hide his inappropriate enjoyment of the contact when McCree was the one facing away. He feared he would not be able to stifle noises of desire if their positions were reversed.

"Perhaps for now, you should concentrate on taking care of yourself," Hanzo replied, hoping the gruffness in his voice would be taken as something other than desire. "Such as finally getting that bath you've been whining for." The coyote had been most put out that Hanzo wouldn't let him dunk the wounds in the spring at the back of the cave, being forced to settle for washing up as best he could kneeling at the edge, and allowing Hanzo to clean his back and thighs.

McCree's eyes lit up. "Oh, _hell_ yeah. Finally! Dunno how your nose has been able to stand my reek the last few days, honestly. I could probably still use your help with my back, though. If you don't mind? I know you've been puttin' yourself out a lot for my sake."

Yes, because _stripping down_ and running his hands all over the other man's body was an excellent way for Hanzo to hide his reaction. Yet it was true that McCree wouldn't be able to manage washing properly on his own, not without painful contortions that might break open the injuries. 

Well, at least the water was cold. 

"As you wish." Hanzo dug in his belongings for the soap he'd made himself. It didn't smell pretty, but it got the job done, and it wouldn't be too harsh on McCree's still sensitive new skin. 

"I'll even wash your back in return," the coyote offered. He made the strangest expression, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. Hanzo had never seen such a thing before, had no idea what it was meant to convey. It looked more like a facial spasm than anything else.

"Into the water," Hanzo commanded, ignoring the offer. It was nonsensical; he had no trouble reaching any part of his body on his own. And there was still the problem of his likely reaction to McCree touching him back.

Sighing, as if disappointed, McCree pushed to his feet and began stripping out of his pants. He'd been forced to borrow a shirt from Hanzo, his own in ruined shreds after the attack, but Hanzo had managed to stitch the tough material of his trousers back together enough for McCree to wear them. Now they hit the ground in a rustle, as Hanzo tore his gaze away.

Clearly, it had been _far_ too long since he'd last had intimate company, if he was so undisciplined as to stare at a man who'd made it clear such attention was not welcome. Self-punishment or not, perhaps Hanzo should not have abstained quite so long. And yet, the thought of following his old habit of seeking out a professional to sate his urges was unappealing. 

A splash and yelp drew Hanzo's attention to the pool, where McCree had apparently plunged straight in. " _Fuck_ , that's cold as a witch's tits," the coyote exclaimed, but he was laughing. "I mean I knew it was, but I underestimated how that'd feel when I was _in_ it."

"It is not ideal for soaking," Hanzo agreed dryly, as he stripped down with a bit more decorum. "I have bathed in worse."

"Oh, same," McCree agreed. He sloshed his way deeper, until the water covered the taut globes of his ass. It was so clear, the water hardly did anything to obscure Hanzo's view. His tail proved to be mostly fur rather than flesh, slicked down by the water and creating eddies whenever it flicked from side to side.

Hanzo carefully kept his eyes high as he slid into the pool as well, shivering at the touch of chill water on his genitals and the soft skin of his inner thighs. As he'd hoped, it killed any physical evidence of his interest, making it easier to approach McCree with equanimity. 

Except the moment Hanzo was close enough, McCree stole the soap out of his hand with a deft movement, and twirled his finger. "Turn 'round, darlin'. I'll prob'ly be too sore and tired to do a good job if I let you go first. Seems like I got no stamina at all."

"That is a natural result of your injuries, and all the more reason you should not bother with me." Hanzo held out his hand, but McCree refused to give up the soap.

"I'm s'posed to be serving you whenever I can," McCree pointed out. "Tending the fire and turning the spit on occasion hardly counts. Lemme do my job."

A large part of why Hanzo had made this bargain was because he understood the need to repay a debt, especially a life debt. McCree had so clearly needed to discharge what he felt he owed to Hanzo, and if Hanzo continued to deny him ways to do so, then the bargain would amount to nothing.

Sighing, Hanzo gave in. "Very well. Though as I recall it, you are supposed to be following my commands, as well as tending to me." Turning, he presented his back to McCree, grateful that he would be facing away and therefore not have to fight temptation to let his gaze drift where it should not.

A moment later warm hands descended on his shoulders. Instead of spreading the soap over his skin, McCree kneaded the muscles with his fingers, seeking and finding knots that had been there probably for decades. "Hoo, boy. You're wound up tighter than that bowstring of yours, darlin'. I definitely need to be returning the favour. Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

A groan of pleasure and pain slipped free of Hanzo as one of the knots released. He bit his lip, mortified by his lack of control. But how could he be expected to remain silent under the seductive touch of those skilled fingers? If anyone had 'magic hands', it clearly was not Hanzo. "You are... very good at this," he managed to say with what he thought was remarkable steadiness.

"Had some practice," McCree admitted. His voice turned quiet, pensive, startling Hanzo with the change. "Had a packmate once who had a _lot_ of injuries and scarring, it twisted him up in knots pretty bad some days. Usually when he got like that he'd snarl and snap if anyone got too close, but once in a while I managed to talk him into lettin' me help. And my alpha, well, nothin' like a backrub to help him get rid of some of that werewolf aggression."

"Werewolf?" Hanzo was surprised enough to turn and look over his shoulder. "I thought they were your enemies. You said the sickness drives them mad, makes them killers."

"Most of 'em," McCree agreed, still subdued. His gaze was distant, though he continued to massage Hanzo's shoulders. "Eventually all of 'em, but it's a strength of will thing. Reyes had more willpower than most ten other folk. He stayed sane for decades, though he was wolf enough that he wanted a pack around him. He built one full of misfits like me, people who had nowhere else to belong but didn't wanna be alone. He still had to lock himself away on the full moon, and usually the days around it."

They were both quiet for a moment, and Hanzo was painfully aware of the unspoken deadline hanging over their heads. Only eleven days left until the full moon. McCree had said he would show no symptoms until and unless the change happened, so there was no way to know now whether the coyote was infected.

"Surely, if it is possible to resist the madness, you do not need my promise to kill you if you turn," Hanzo said, frowning. "If you fall prey to the mind sickness as well, I will do so, but..."

"But, nothin'," McCree broke in, his tone harsh and bleak. " _Maybe_ I can fight it off for a while, but nobody wins in the end. Sooner or later, I'll go loco, and when I do I'll hurt anyone and everyone around me. My loved ones, whoever they might be. Just like Reyes did. How could I ever let myself get close to anyone, knowing I'll be their death sentence someday? How could I stay sane, knowing every full moon might be the one where I break free and hurt them? And frankly, I wouldn't count on me lasting long."

The grief and guilt in his eyes was so strong, Hanzo was compelled to turn around and grip the coyote's shoulders, offering comfort and support. "Why would you say such a thing? Your will is very strong, or you would not have survived so long against that pack of vile wolves."

McCree's smile was distinctly crooked, and self-mocking in a way that had nothing to do with his usual light-hearted teasing. "I'm a yellow-bellied coward, darlin', and that's the truth. When Reyes did finally go 'round the bend and turn on us, I didn't stay to help the others fight him off. I fled like the goddamn coward I am. Maybe with three of us, we coulda fought him off, but the others had no chance without me. I saved my own skin at the cost of theirs."

He laughed, harsh and ragged, the sound barely shy of being a sob instead. "Truth is, maybe my bein' infected is karmy, or whatever it's called. Retribution for my sins."

"Karma," Hanzo corrected him automatically, heart aching for the anguish the coyote clearly felt. Hanzo knew all too well about guilt and grief, about punishing yourself for your sins. He knew about the despair that was so deep, you couldn't even bring yourself to end it all, because you didn't deserve surcease from the suffering of life.

Impulsively, Hanzo drew the man into an embrace, though he usually eschewed close physical contact with other people. It felt like the right thing to do in that moment of sorrowful solidarity. McCree went rigid with surprise; Hanzo was awkward with the unaccustomed touch, and it seemed like it had been a mistake.

Then McCree melted into his arms, warm and pliant against him, shuddering with the force of his restrained sobs. Hanzo stroked his back, hoping he was doing it correctly. It had been centuries since the last time he'd comforted someone, and kitten Genji hiding from a thunderstorm was not at all the same thing as trying to help a man wracked by grief.

Hanzo spoke, as gently as he knew how. "If they loved you, they would not have wanted you to suffer. I am sure they would be glad you survived."

McCree snorted, a wet snuffling sound. "You only say that 'cause you never met 'em. Cu sidhe and oni ain't either one known for their forgiving nature."

" _Oni_?" Hanzo pulled back to stare at him in shock. "Is that the Japanese man you said you knew? They are vicious killers, as bad as your werewolves. How could you be near one so long and survive?" Let alone come to care for the ogre.

"He said he was possessed by one, or driven by it, or something like that." Though still subdued, the change in subject seemed to help McCree regain his equilibrium. "He was obsessed with revenge, but didn't much care one way or another about anyone except his target, and training to get stronger. Wasn't the friendliest fella, but he never did me no harm. And sometimes, on the good days, I could see the man he used to be."

Even if it was a case of spirit possession and not an actual oni, McCree had no idea how lucky he was that the creature hadn't turned on him. Hanzo decided not to enlighten him further, because there was no reason to sully the memory of a dead man.

McCree was right that it was highly unlikely an oni would ever forgive such a betrayal, however. Again, best not to mention that. Hanzo had no idea what the other thing was, the cu sidhe, but he assumed McCree knew the creature's nature well enough to make the comment.

"Then, at the very least, I am sure your alpha was glad that he hurt one less person he loved," Hanzo said firmly. "If he was the caring man you describe, he would be grateful you survived."

"Yeah. That's true." McCree bowed his head, shading his expression. "Reyes was tough on us sometimes, but he was as good as they come. He deserved so much better than what happened to him."

Unspoken was the knowledge that McCree might well be suffering the same undeserved fate. Rather than say anything about it, Hanzo released him and turned away once more. "You have not finished your task." Offering a distraction was surely the best thing he could do right now.

It seemed to work, because McCree's voice was much warmer when he replied, "Sorry, darlin'. Didn't mean to neglect you none. Lemme just get that finished up."

This time he did employ the soap, gliding the bar over Hanzo's skin until it was slick and slippery. Instead of then sluicing the soap off with water, however, McCree kept running the bar over and over the muscled contours of Hanzo's back, a different kind of massage. Breathless, Hanzo closed his eyes and tried hard to focus on the feel of the cold water against his genitals, instead of the warm touch that made those genitals want to respond. 

What was the man _doing_? He'd made it clear he had no desire for Hanzo to touch him, with his talk about what he would and would not do to pay back the life debt. Yet now he seemed determined to tease and torment, in a way that Hanzo would have described as seduction had it come from someone who'd expressed interest. Perhaps it was a test, to be certain Hanzo meant to keep his promise not to touch, even if he was tempted?

Hanzo had no interest in forcing a bed partner, but his willpower was not limitless and McCree was a great temptation indeed. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and set his teeth to the coyote's throat, claiming and subduing him, preparing him for a more intimate touch.

"Enough," Hanzo finally growled, rougher than he'd meant to sound. He jerked away from McCree's enticing touch, taking two steps forward and plunging under the surface of the icy water. It served to rinse off the soap, but did little to cool his ardor. 

When he rose again, hair dripping, he turned to see McCree looking... disappointed? That made no sense. It must be simple dismay that Hanzo had become irate with him. Sighing, Hanzo made certain he was less gruff when he spoke again. "The water is too cold for you to stay in long, and you will tire soon. I should wash your wounds before that happens, and make sure you have enough time to complete your bath as well. Turn around."

"Sure thing, darlin'." This time McCree turned his back without further argument. Only when the coyote was facing away did Hanzo wade closer, so McCree wouldn't see the painfully erect state of his cock. He would not make the man uncomfortable with his interest. He didn't want to chase him off for fear of what Hanzo would do.

Truthfully, when this month was over, Hanzo was going to miss McCree's presence. Even though it sometimes drove him insane with desire.


	4. Chapter 4

Jesse began to despair of ever finding a way to seduce Hanzo. If his attentions had simply been unwelcome, he'd have stopped after the first casual flirtation, but he could tell Hanzo _did_ want him. There was interest in his eyes, reluctance when he looked away from whatever body part Jesse was displaying ‘accidentally’. Sometimes he swore the wolf stared at him like he was starving and Jesse was a feast laid out for his delight.

Maybe the guy had taken a vow of chastity, or maybe his religion didn't allow sex outside of marriage, or made male/male relationships taboo. Jesse didn't know what was holding Hanzo back, but it was driving Jesse absolutely crazy.

He had less than a week left before he'd know if he was safe, or doomed. Four lousy days to try to pack as much into as he could in case they were his last. He still wasn't healed enough to leave the area, too weak and easily exhausted to travel far. Anyway, his interest was very much in Hanzo, at the moment. Jesse didn't want to go find a brothel and have one last fuck with a saloon girl. For the first time in far too long, Jesse wanted something _real_ , meaningful, even if it was temporary. 

But nothing he did pushed Hanzo into _acting_ on that desire. If Jesse made his invitations any more obvious, he was going to feel like a whore pressuring a potential client, and that wasn't the dynamic he was after. Hanzo was the dominant type, and he needed to think the sex was _his_ idea or he'd be annoyed with Jesse for taking control. 

Between his futile attempts to seduce Hanzo, Jesse found he genuinely enjoyed the man's company. Hanzo could be gruff and arrogant, and he talked like he'd been educated at one of them high-falutin' universities back east or something. But for all his seeming disdain, he never actually mocked Jesse for being ignorant or backwater, or for anything else at all. He got too on his high horse sometimes, but usually Jesse could talk him back down again, and when he actually relaxed, the wolf was rather charming.

"Y'know, you never did tell me," Jesse remarked one evening as he carefully skinned the rabbits and squirrel Hanzo had brought home for dinner. All three animals had neat, precise arrow holes directly above their hearts, and not another mark on them. Hanzo never seemed to miss his shots. "Can you turn into a wolf, or are you just connected to them through your powers?"

There was a soft huff, followed by a rumbling 'growl' that Jesse recognized to be playful in tone. Turning, he was astonished to find himself facing a huge wolf with pure white fur and golden eyes. It sat where Hanzo had been a moment before, forelegs crossed in front of it, tongue lolling out of its mouth in a lupine grin. It looked exactly like the head and hide of a wolf that Hanzo usually wore as a sort of hood and cape.

Jesse blinked, and Hanzo sat there once again, in that funny kneeling posture he liked so much. He was smiling, though not as broadly as the wolf-grin had been. "You look shocked. Clearly you expected the answer might be 'yes', or you'd not have asked the question."

"I just..." Words failed him, and Jesse shook his head, rather awed. "Don't think I've ever seen anyone transform _that_ fast. Also, ain't that fur of yours a mite cannibalistic, considerin' you turn into a wolf just like it?"

Hanzo stared at him blankly for a long moment, then threw his head back and laughed. "It is not a wolf that I killed and tanned, McCree. I do not turn into a wolf 'just like it', I turn into that wolf. It is _my_ skin."

"Oh!" Well, now Jesse felt rather foolish, for thinking Hanzo would have slaughtered a fellow wolf. It had struck him as odd, all this time, but he hadn't quite dared to ask. "But changin' like that, so fast and easy, is that somethin' all yokee can do?"

"Youkai." Hanzo never failed to correct Jesse's bad pronunciation, just like Genji used to do. Jesse wasn't _trying_ to slaughter the words, but he couldn't quite make the right sounds, and his memory for foreign words wasn't great. "Not all youkai have other forms, but for those who are shifters like myself, yes, it is this easy. I've seen for myself that your werewolves here can take wolf form, and you said you can become a coyote. How is that different?" 

"Even Moira, the cu sidhe, took a few seconds where she was just a black mist," Jesse told him. "And werewolves, well, takes them a couple minutes to change sometimes, depending on how strong they are. Their clothes don’t go with them, neither. Plus for them, it hurts like a _bitch_." He paused, then added softly, "You change like I do." And he'd never met anyone else who could.

Jesse shifted. One moment he was sitting with the knife in front of the half-skinned game, the next he was a coyote, indistinguishable from any of his natural cousins. He wagged his tail, ears pricked with amusement, as Hanzo looked him over with interest.

"I had not seen one of your kind up close, before," Hanzo murmured, moving nearer to get a better look. He stretched a hand toward Jesse, moving slowly enough that Jesse could easily dodge if the touch was unwelcome. Jesse sat still, and yipped happily when Hanzo buried his fingers in the thick fur at the scruff of his neck.

"Quite understandably, they do not like getting close to large wolves," Hanzo noted. He scratched at the base of Jesse's ears, and Jesse flopped down onto his stomach, paws twitching with ecstasy. "You are rather like a cross between a fox and a wolf, in some ways. You have always reminded me of a kitsune, with your ears and tail present at all times, though the many-tails among them can hide themselves fully."

Kit-soo-nay, that was a word Jesse recognized. Genji had called him that, sometimes. Jesse assumed from Hanzo's words now that they were some kind of fox spirit, so that made sense, if they didn't have coyotes in Japan. Though Genji had usually said it in a way that suggested it was uncomplimentary.

Hanzo's hand in his fur felt _so_ good, but Jesse knew it could feel even better. He shifted back, which left Hanzo's fingers tangled in his long hair right at the base of his coyote ears, scratching at his skull. The new position put their faces inches apart, with Jesse's hands braced on either side of Hanzo's thighs. 

Hanzo froze, hand closing into a fist that tugged Jesse's hair not quite hard enough to be painful. His breathing was too fast, and his pupils went wide with desire. Jesse held his breath. If this didn't work, _nothing_ would, and he might as well give up.

For one heated moment, nothing happened. Hanzo wasn't accepting the invitation, but neither was he rejecting it. Jesse didn't dare to move until the wolf made up his mind, and he started to wonder if they would stay like this forever.

Then Hanzo lunged forward, locking their mouths together in a heated kiss. He went at it full on, no holds barred, open-mouth and full tongue. Moaning with relief as much as desire, Jesse opened his mouth and submitted to the kiss, welcoming the invasion.

Their tongues tangled, Jesse 'fighting back' just enough to excite, not enough to protest, duelling in the kind of battle that had no losers. It was glorious, perfect, everything he'd known it could be and wanted so bad.

Except Hanzo yanked back abruptly, a horrified look on his face, and leapt to his feet as if he couldn't get away from Jesse fast enough. Before Jesse could ask what was wrong, or say anything at all, he found himself facing a beautiful white wolf instead of an equally beautiful man.

Then the wolf was gone, leaping for the cave entrance and running off into the night. Jesse was left sitting there, lips tingling from the force of the kiss and cock aching with need, staring after Hanzo in utter baffled confusion.

* * *

It was hours before Hanzo returned. Jesse spent the whole time dithering over whether he should stay to face the music, or get while the getting was good. The signals he got from Hanzo were so damned mixed, Jesse was turned around until he didn't know up from down anymore. 

In the end, what kept him there was his promise to serve for a month - and Hanzo's promise to kill Jesse, if he did turn into a werewolf at the full moon. Jesse wouldn't break his word, refused to be a coward again as one of his last acts in life. He would own up to his mistakes, and face the consequences head on.

Eventually, Hanzo slunk back into the cave, still in wolf form. His tail was tucked, ears drooping; a wolf couldn't look any more miserable if they tried. He froze mid-step when he caught sight of Jesse by the fire, one paw raised and hovering in the air.

Jesse wasn't sure how to interpret the wolf's body language, other than 'surprised'. At least he didn't seem to be in a rage. Drawing a breath, Jesse plunged into the speech he'd been practising for hours. 

"I'm really sorry. I dunno what's goin' on with you, but whatever the reason you've been turning me down, I've pushed too hard and that was lousy of me. I promise, I won't do it again. I'll be the very soul of discretion and propriety. Please forgive me."

Hanzo stared at him through the whole speech, then continued staring afterward. Jesse got nervous, fighting the urge to fidget. Finally he couldn't stand the silence any longer. "Han? Say something, please?"

At last, Hanzo transformed. His human expression was just as difficult to read as the wolf’s had been. "I do not understand. Why are _you_ apologizing? It is I who has transgressed."

"Huh?" Jesse often had to guess at what Hanzo said based on context, he used so many fancy words. This time it sure sounded like Hanzo was saying he was the one who'd made the mistake, but what had he done wrong? "Is two men being together taboo in Japan? It kinda is here, dependin' on who you ask, but I've never much cared for god-talk. Any priest I ever met would call me a demon in a heartbeat."

"Demon is a common translation of youkai," Hanzo agreed, brow furrowed. "But that is beside the point. As is the question of my opinion of sexual relations between men. You made it clear that such attention was unwelcome, and yet I committed an unforgivable sin. It is I who should be begging your forgiveness. I thought you would surely have fled by the time I returned."

" _Unwelcome_?" Jesse stared at him, flabbergasted. "Does your culture have some kinda weird reverse flirting custom or something'? I've done everything short of stripping down and displaying myself in your bedroll to try to get you to respond."

"I thought you were testing my promise not to make any advances on you!" Hanzo stared at him, seeming no less boggled than Jesse felt.

Every word in this conversation made Jesse feel like he was lost farther at sea. "What promise? When did I ask for that?"

"You said you would not allow me to hurt you, and that nobody would touch you without your permission," Hanzo reminded him. "How am I to take that, if not forbidding me to do such a thing?"

 _That_ was why Hanzo had been holding back, watching Jesse with such agonized longing but never making a move? Jesse wasn't sure whether to laugh, or swear in frustration. "Han, I said I wouldn't let you _force_ me. That's a hell of a lot different from you responding to my indication of genuine interest. Once I knew you weren't the type who _would_ try to force me, that interest was very definitely real."

Closing his eyes like it was all too much to take in, Hanzo bowed his head. When he lifted it again a moment later, his brown eyes had turned the bright gold of his wolf, though he remained human in all other ways. The heat in his expression was ten times as powerful as that from the fire, leaving Jesse feeling burned all down his front.

His cock, which had long since wilted after Hanzo fled, now leapt to full, aching attention. Jesse licked his lips, an instinctive response to the heat, and watched as those golden eyes tracked the movement. A growl reverberated low in Hanzo's chest, so quiet it was almost felt more than heard, even though he was several feet away. 

When he spoke, the growl was more obvious in his voice. "Are you telling me that all these long nights of suffering and frustration have been due to a miscommunication? Be very certain what you say next, Jesse McCree, because my patience is absolutely at an end."

Jesse opened his mouth, and nothing came out. His throat was dry, and there was an element of nerves as well as desire to it. The intensity pouring off Hanzo right now was its own kind of warning. Jesse had wanted this to be Hanzo's idea, respecting his dominance, and now he was getting what he'd asked for and then some. 

After nearly two weeks of teasing and frustration, this was not going to be a slow or gentle loving. This was going to be hot, heavy fucking, the kind that would leave Jesse aching for days in the best possible way.

Words still wouldn't come. Fearing Hanzo would mistake his silence for rejection, Jesse deliberately tipped his head back and to one side, baring his throat in a sign of submission no wolf could mistake. 

The simple gesture did the trick. Hanzo lunged forward to yank Jesse close to him. His teeth closed over Jesse's windpipe, fangs too long to be human, digging into the pulse point. Jesse moaned and shivered, one hand coming around to clutch at Hanzo's back, the other sliding beneath the wolf pelt to tangle in the man's long hair, holding him close.

Jesse finally managed to find one word, the most important one of all. " _Please_." It came out broken and begging, desperate need making Jesse's voice shake. He wanted this so badly, and they'd wasted so much of his little remaining time with this stupid misunderstanding.

Hanzo's possessive bite eased, but his hands were busy at the edges of Jesse's borrowed shirt, burrowing beneath the crossed halves of the front. His warm, callused fingers found the planes of Jesse's chest, following the curve of muscle to seek out his nipple, tweaking the already taut peak. Jesse cried out and shuddered again, clinging for support as much as to encourage Hanzo.

"You are mine, now," Hanzo said, low and dangerous, as he trailed his mouth up from Jesse's throat to his jaw. "Say it."

"I'm yours," Jesse whispered, unable to manage more volume. This was more than he'd asked for, more than he'd dared to hope for; Hanzo was claiming him, utterly and completely. Had anyone asked, Jesse would have said he wanted no such thing, that he was only after a few hours of pleasure in his potential last days. Now it felt like there was absolutely nothing he wanted more.

Hanzo kissed him again, just as hot and hard as the first time, but Jesse could feel a difference. Before, Hanzo had been resistant, but desperate enough to lose control. This time, he knew he was welcome, and didn't hesitate to push in. Jesse met him eagerly, letting Hanzo control the kiss but participating with enthusiasm, seeking out any sensitive places that would make the other man moan.

When Hanzo tweaked his nipple again, it reminded Jesse that there was far more they could be doing. He fumbled with the belt that held Hanzo's shirt closed, grateful the man wasn't wearing all the armour and layers he normally did when he left the cave. It meant Jesse was able to get at skin much faster. 

Hanzo's chest was untouched by hair, but with the strong, sculpted planes of muscle, there was no mistaking the smoothness for 'feminine'. Fascinated, Jesse skimmed his fingers over the skin, gun callus dragging but not finding much to catch on. Until he got to Hanzo's nipple, anyway, which was a tight peak just begging to be tugged. Jesse did so, and was rewarded with another growl and a shove that knocked him flat on his back.

There was a flurry of movement as they tore each other's clothes off. Jesse was stymied by some of the fastenings to Hanzo's gear, and Hanzo seemed likewise baffled by the fly of Jesse's denim jeans, but they managed somehow. The first press of naked flesh to flesh was ecstasy, and Jesse writhed beneath the heavy weight of Hanzo's body. 

When he broke the kiss, Hanzo moved to nipping and licking his way back down Jesse's neck, occasionally pausing to suck a mark onto the skin that would last longer. Jesse welcomed every one, digging his fingers into Hanzo's back, clinging hard to encourage more. As soon as they had their pants off, he hooked his leg around Hanzo's waist, opening himself up to the other man and rocking their hips together.

Hanzo's cock was just as hard as Jesse's, thick enough that Jesse went breathless at the thought of it filling him up, stretching him to the point of burning. "You got any oil?" He hoped so, and he hoped it was in reach, because convincing himself to let go would be difficult but he really wanted Hanzo inside him.

With a groan that suggested he understood the meaning behind Jesse's question and looked forward to the idea just as much, Hanzo stretched out a hand and managed to snag the kit he used to care for his bow. There was indeed a vial of pure oil inside. He coated his fingers, then pushed up on his knees and one hand so he could reach between them. 

Jesse allowed the separation without protest only because he wanted more so much. Hanzo's slick fingers probed at his entrance, and the wolf didn't go easy on him, forcing two fingers inside to start with. Jesse whined in the back of his throat at the sting, but he loved the frantic desperation in those burning amber eyes, the wolf staring out at him from the face of the man. He concentrated on relaxing despite the pain, and that made it better, Hanzo's fingers thrusting slowly in and out of him.

"Let me see you," Jesse begged, running his hands up and down Hanzo's back. "The real you." He'd long suspected that fully human was not Hanzo's natural state, even though he held the form without thought or effort. Those golden eyes told him he was right, that there was more wolf in the youkai than he usually showed.

Hanzo hesitated, but then his eyes flicked up to Jesse's fuzzy ears, and his lips stretched in a smile that showed too many teeth. His face changed subtly, still human but somehow sharper, hungrier, and the golden eyes no longer looked out of place. Though he'd set aside the wolf pelt as they stripped, suddenly Jesse's hands were no longer on smooth skin, but a soft layer of fur that coated Hanzo's back and shoulders. The rest of his body was still skin, save for the bushy tail and fluffy ears that were a near match for Jesse's own, but pure snowy white.

"Gorgeous," Jesse breathed out, burying his fingers in that fur and stroking. For the first time in his life, Jesse didn't feel like some weird in-between hybrid that was neither one, nor the other. He felt like he matched Hanzo, each of them a perfect creature in their own right, exactly what they were meant to be. The feeling of belonging and being _whole_ was so powerful, Jesse had to swallow against a lump in his throat.

"As are you," Hanzo murmured, nipping at Jesse's throat again. "Beautiful in both forms. There is a grace to you that wolves do not possess, a sense of playful mischief. I have never known anything, or anyone, like you, Jesse McCree."

He withdrew his fingers, but before Jesse could protest the sensation of emptiness, he replaced them with something much bigger. Jesse fought the urge to hold his breath and brace against the pain, instead relaxing and breathing slow and steady as Hanzo's cock breached his entrance. Once the head was in, the rest of the passage was easier, and Jesse groaned as he was filled as full as he'd ever been.

When he was all the way inside, Hanzo paused, letting them both adjust. Jesse was having none of it, rocking his hips to try to make sure he had every last inch, encouraging further movement. "Give it to me," he pleaded, just on the safe side of a demand. "Please, Hanzo, I want all of you. Fuck me the way you want to, not the way you think I'll like it. Because believe me, darlin’, I want it just as bad as you."

"I will hurt you," Hanzo objected, but he was trembling with the effort of holding himself back. Instead of answering, Jesse nuzzled at _his_ throat, not using teeth but touching his mouth to the pulse, frantically beating with Hanzo's racing heart.

That was enough to make the wolf lose his stranglehold on control. With a shout, Hanzo withdrew almost all the way from Jesse, then slammed himself home again. The oil smoothed the passage, keeping friction from burning and making it easy to take him. Jesse tipped his head back, breathless with the force of it, writhing in ecstasy.

It was just as good the next time Hanzo pounded into him, and the next, and every time after that. He rode Jesse hard, giving them both what they wanted, his moans filling the cave along with Jesse's. It was heaven, and it went on forever and yet not nearly long enough. Jesse's cock ground against Hanzo's stomach with each inward thrust, but he still craved more. When he moved to wrap his hand around himself, however, Hanzo batted him away with a growl.

"Han," Jesse protested, whimpering with need. He could feel Hanzo tensing, knew the end was coming, and didn't want to be left hanging.

"Mine," Hanzo reminded him, and squeezed his own hand around Jesse's cock instead. Jesse cried out, and in three short strokes his balls were drawing up, every muscle going tense as he trembled on the brink.

The fourth stroke pushed him over, and orgasm bowled him over like a stampeding herd of cattle. The power of it was a punch to the gut, stealing Jesse's breath so he couldn't moan, until the only sound he could make was a whine of pleasure as his eyes rolled back in his head.

That seemed to be enough to tip Hanzo over the edge as well. The wolf snarled as he came, teeth finding Jesse's throat once more, a surprisingly gentle clamp compared to the power of his last thrust. He emptied himself inside Jesse, so hot and hard Jesse swore he could feel the spurting seed deep within.

Hanzo collapsed with a groan, rolling to the side to avoid crushing Jesse, the move pulling his softening cock free. Bereft and cold, Jesse followed him, snuggling up to the wolf's side with his arm and leg flung over Hanzo's body. To Jesse's deep gratification, Hanzo wrapped his arm around Jesse's shoulder in turn and held him close, not rejecting the cuddling.

"That was incredible," Jesse said, hoarse with reaction. " _You're_ incredible. Fuck, I am so glad I stumbled over you that day."

"As am I, or you would not have survived at all," Hanzo pointed out. He slid his hand into Jesse's hair, stroking the base of his ears the way he had when Jesse was a coyote. "I am very glad you've come into my life, McCree."

"I think this earns you the right to call me Jesse," he pointed out with a soft chuckle. He was drifting off, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this good.

As he fell asleep, he prayed with all his might that he wasn't infected, that he wouldn't turn into a monster in a few short days. Because with this carrot dangled in front of him, Jesse wasn't sure he could resist trying to hold out, staying sane as long as he could to enjoy more time with Hanzo.

And if he did that, it would be Hanzo who suffered in the end, because he would be closest when Jesse finally went insane.


	5. Chapter 5

The day of the full moon, Hanzo found himself utterly unable to think about anything else. He missed several shots while hunting, when normally every arrow he fired struck true. He tripped over a root and nearly went tumbling head first into a stream. Most of all, he couldn't think of Jesse without experiencing a creeping sense of panic that threatened to overwhelm all else.

Hanzo wanted nothing more than to flee the problem, spend the whole day out hunting and claim it had taken him that long to find game. If he didn't see Jesse, he wouldn't be reminded of the blade poised to fall on their necks, the enemy waiting to destroy the unexpected happiness they'd carved out for themselves.

Because Hanzo couldn't remember ever being this happy. Jesse was blisteringly responsive to Hanzo's every touch, every command. The coyote soaked up the attention like a sponge, and gave back every bit as good as he got. It was clear that he was desperately cramming in as many good memories as he could, but it was also clear that it was simply his nature to be an attentive and affectionate lover. Hanzo had never experienced anything quite like it, and he was growing addicted.

And now he might lose it all, in a few short hours. 

He deserved nothing less, he knew that. What he'd done to Genji was the sort of dishonour that could have no redemption, and that he'd been granted even these few days of bliss was a blessing. But as much as it would tear Hanzo apart to lose this new happiness, it was Jesse who was being punished unfairly. Whatever the coyote thought about this being karma for his 'cowardice', Hanzo knew the man didn't deserve this horrific fate. 

Despite his wish to stay away, Hanzo forced himself to return as soon as he had enough food. Jesse was undoubtedly just as distressed by what was coming, and Hanzo would be cowardly and selfish not to give the coyote all the comfort and reassurance that he could. Sure enough, Jesse pounced on him the moment Hanzo set foot in the cave, and food was forgotten in the frantic coupling that followed.

Afterwards, Hanzo lay on their mingled bedrolls, holding Jesse close to him. Usually after a bout of sex they would doze for a bit, but he could tell from the tension in Jesse's body that the coyote was wide awake and brooding. Hanzo stroked Jesse's hair, lost in his own dark thoughts, but hoping Jesse would find some comfort in his touch.

"I guess you oughta tie me up," Jesse said, so unexpected that Hanzo jumped. 

"What?" Hanzo blinked at him, certain he'd misunderstood. "I have heard of such things, but I am not versed in the art of Kinbaku." He'd never understood why some indulged in the fad of using rope tying techniques for erotic purposes, but he had to admit there was appeal in the idea of Jesse, bound and helpless for Hanzo's pleasure. More, the ritual of tying, which would involve extensive touch and prolonged anticipation, could serve as its own form of foreplay. Jesse's strong, tanned body would make a beautiful canvas for the contrast of ropes and knots.

  


Was there any way for him to learn the techniques, short of returning to his homeland? Undoubtedly there had been a manual written _somewhere_ , but such things were passed from person to person, not sold in a common store.

"Art?" Jesse's brow was furrowed, the coyote's ears laid back against his head in a sign of distress. "What's art got to do with anything? I'm sayin' you'd better restrain me so I don't hurt you, if I do change."

The ardour raised by contemplation of binding Jesse was doused as thoroughly as if Hanzo had jumped into the freezing pool at the back of the cave. This was a much less appealing subject, though it certainly made more sense why Jesse had brought it up. "Ah. I thought you were speaking of erotic bondage. Some among my people have begun creating art of human bodies in such a way."

Of course, when youkai were involved, sometimes the human canvas was eaten afterwards, not eaten out. Jorougumo, the spider women, tended to be among the most enthusiastic practitioners of the art. But Hanzo was not one who had a taste for human flesh.

"That's..." Jesse looked intrigued and horrified by equal measures, as if he couldn't even conceive of such a thing, and yet was fascinated despite himself. "Huh. Well, maybe that's a discussion for later. If..."

He swallowed the rest of what he'd been about to say, but it hung in the air between them regardless. 'If there is a later'. 

"There will be," Hanzo answered the unspoken comment. He'd never felt so fierce and determined. "Even if the worst happens, Jesse, we will find a way to cure you of this disease. You must hang on to yourself until we can find it."

"There's no cure," Jesse protested. "People've tried everything, Han."

"I doubt many have tried the medicine or magic of my people," Hanzo countered. "You have seen for yourself how different my powers are from what you are accustomed to, and that is only the merest scratch of the surface. I know some powerful entities, many of whom owe me favours. We will find a way. And _if_ we cannot, I will keep my promise to you, but you must promise in turn that you will hang on as long as you can."

Jesse bit his bottom lip, and squeezed his eyes shut, as if he was trying to hide the emotions that were so clearly written on his face. Hanzo leaned in and kissed each eyelid gently. That prompted a ragged gasp from Jesse, almost a sob.

"Promise me," Hanzo demanded.

"I promise," Jesse whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. "I won't give in. Hell, darlin', I don't wanna die. Just _please_ don't let me hurt nobody!"

"I will not." Drawing away, Hanzo cast about the cave, looking for anything he could use to restrain the coyote. "To that end, I will do as you suggest and tie you up. Darkness falls swiftly at this time of year, and the moon will rise before long. Take care of any needs, and make yourself comfortable."

He dug up ropes he'd braided from vines to hang carcasses of larger prey. He could faintly scent the deer blood soaked into the plant fibres, which was far from ideal, but hopefully it wouldn't matter. When he turned, he found Jesse curled up on a blanket that he'd shifted away from the bedroll and fire, to an empty part of the cave. He was still naked.

"Werewolves don't shift like us," Jesse explained, seeing Hanzo's surprise. "The clothes don't go with 'em, they tear right through and it makes the process a lot more painful than it already is. It's messy, with fluids and blood, and I don't wanna get it all over our stuff. Also, don't wanna be in reach of the fire. Just in case."

"That sounds highly unpleasant." Hanzo wrinkled his nose in disgust. He remembered Jesse saying something about that, how the vile wolves took several minutes and a great deal of pain to transform, but he hadn't thought it through to apply that to Jesse. "Won't the ropes cause the same problem?"

"Tie my wrists and ankles as tight as you can, in front of me," Jesse said, holding his arms out with obvious reluctance. "If I shift, my legs might get small enough to pull free, but if you move fast you should be able to get me bound again while I'm still dazed from the change. Don't... don't let me out of your sight."

Again Hanzo heard the unspoken words, the true sentiment. 'Don't leave me to face this alone'. "I will not leave your side," he promised, winding the ropes around Jesse's wrists, passing it back and forth in a weaving pattern. He knew the basics of tying a prisoner, even if he didn't know the more artistic methods being developed by his kin.

He did the same to Jesse's ankles, as the other man sat shivering and miserable, huddled into a ball on the thin blanket. It was cold, away from the fire, but Hanzo knew that wasn't the reason for Jesse's trembling. When he was done with the ropes, Hanzo moved to sit behind Jesse, and wrapped himself around the coyote from behind.

"Han, I could hurt you," Jesse objected, craning his neck to try to glare over his shoulder. "You ain't takin' this seriously."

"I am," Hanzo assured him, running his hands up and down Jesse's arms in a slow, stroking manner. "You said the change will take several minutes. I can move away in seconds, if necessary. I will not leave you to suffer alone until then. How long until we know?"

"No idea," Jesse admitted, slumping back against Hanzo. He shifted around until he could turn a bit, enough to tuck his head under Hanzo's chin and nuzzle at his shoulder. "I've never seen a first time before, but Reyes would start changing soon as the moon cleared the horizon."

Hanzo glanced at the cave entrance, but all he could see was trees. The last of the daylight was fading, but it was late autumn, and night came early. The moon might not rise for another hour or so. "Then I will just have to keep you distracted. You are fretting yourself sick."

"You ain't wrong," Jesse mumbled. "But I'm not sure there's much as will distract me from... ah!" He jumped as Hanzo bit hard at the nape of his neck, letting his canines lengthen so he could get a better grip on the nob of Jesse's spine. It was a threatening hold, but also a possessive one; Hanzo didn't intend to let Jesse forget his promise not to give up.

A horrible, selfish part of him almost hoped Jesse _would_ turn. Then the coyote-cum-werewolf would have to stay with Hanzo much longer than a mere month, if he wanted help finding a cure. Hanzo had no idea how he was going to bring himself to give up this happiness he'd found in only a few more weeks, otherwise.

But he would not truly wish that fate on his lover. So, as Jesse had been packing as many good experiences into the last few days as he could, Hanzo would do the same with the coming weeks, generating a wealth of memories for him to treasure in the long centuries after the coyote was gone.

Jesse squirmed in his hold, and Hanzo bit harder to still him. Whining, Jesse stopped moving. "We just had sex," the coyote pointed out, breathless. "You can't possibly have recovered yet." 

Reluctantly releasing his bite, Hanzo nuzzled at the spot instead. "If that was meant to sound like a protest, you failed miserably. And you would be surprised what effect you have on me. However, this is not sex. This is simply touch."

"Uh-huh." Jesse sounded unconvinced by Hanzo's argument. He also sounded far less distressed, as Hanzo had hoped, distracted by the touch and the discussion. "How long's it gonna stay 'just touch'?"

"That is up to you," Hanzo replied, smirking against Jesse's skin. He stroked up Jesse's arms once more, then slipped around his torso from behind, caressing and petting the muscles of his chest and abs. Hanzo never tired of exploring the thatch of hair on Jesse's chest, following what the man referred to as his 'treasure trail' down to the nest of dense curls above his cock. 

Jesse was flaccid, having expended himself such a short time ago, now small enough that Hanzo could cup cock and balls in one hand. He played there for a few moments, rolling the other man's balls in his fingers, feeling his cock twitch and slowly harden. When Jesse's breathing began to speed up, Hanzo abandoned his play and moved back upwards, despite Jesse's protesting whimper. 

He returned to exploring Jesse's chest, pausing to tweak a nipple as he passed by each one. Waiting until Jesse's breathing returned to normal, Hanzo bit at the back of his neck again, and moved down once more to play with the hardening cock.

Back and forth he went, ignoring Jesse's increasingly loud whines and moans and complaints. Every so often he'd feel Jesse's arms tense, as the coyote instinctively tried to move his hands to touch back, and the restraints prevented him. Hanzo loved the sense of power it gave him, loved watching Jesse's frustration grow into need, loved forcing his coyote to sit still and be worshipped. 

Jesse had such a giving heart, he was always focused on Hanzo's pleasure as much as his own. Since Hanzo tried to do the same, sex between them tended to get hot and heavy very fast as they worked each other up. This was the first time he'd had the opportunity to properly explore, touch everywhere he wanted to, and not be distracted by Jesse's mouth or hands on some sensitive part of his body.

Yes, there was definitely something to this erotic bondage concept. Hanzo would have to find a way to learn more.

Assuming Jesse was with him long enough for it to matter. Surely by the time his repayment was done, he'd be sick of Hanzo's moods and arrogance. Everyone else always seemed to be happy to flee his presence after far less time than Jesse had managed. Only Genji had stayed by Hanzo's side through the years, and even their relationship had soured badly in the end.

Forcing the dismaying thoughts from his head, Hanzo concentrated on bringing his lover as much pleasure as possible, keeping him distracted from what might be about to happen.

It didn't take long before Jesse was fully erect again, his cock like a steel bar when Hanzo would tease it with his fingers, weeping from the tip. Hanzo granted no relief no matter how Jesse begged and pleaded - though the coyote's attempts to motivate him into finishing it caused Hanzo's cock to rise in turn, fully recovered from their earlier athletics. Hanzo shifted closer, grinding his turgid member against Jesse's ass.

Feeling it, Jesse groaned and tipped his head back, resting it on Hanzo's shoulder. "C'mon, darlin', you want it as bad as I do," he said, hoarse with need. "Stop _teasing_ and give us what we both need!"

"I am discovering that I enjoy teasing," Hanzo replied, chuckling. "You are so very entertaining like this, frantic and helpless and completely at my mercy for your release. I don't have to worry about you sneaking a hand down to try to touch yourself."

"You're killin' me here," Jesse groaned. " _Please!_ "

Ignoring him, Hanzo continued with his play. In the end, however, _his_ need grew to be too much, spurred on by Jesse's reactions. Taking himself in one hand, he wrapped the other around Jesse's cock, and stroked them both in unison. Jesse was so wound up that it took only three thrusts into Hanzo's fist before he came, writhing and shouting with the powerful release. In truth, Hanzo didn't require much more before he spent himself as well, admiring the patterns his semen made across Jesse's back. 

In fact, he admired it so much that he decided to lick it off, lapping up the bitter fluid along with the clean salt flavour of Jesse's sweat. Reduced to a quivering heap of nerves, Jesse trembled beneath each swipe of Hanzo's tongue, moaning.

Finished, Hanzo tugged Jesse down to lie curled up on the blanket, and wrapped around him from behind once more. Glancing at the cave entrance once more, he saw nothing but impenetrable darkness. The sun had set long ago, and the moon was surely up. 

Shoving aside the stab of disappointment that Jesse would not be forced to stay with him longer, Hanzo nudged the coyote. "Jesse. The moon has long since risen. I think you are safe."

"Thank _god_." The words came out on a choked sob, and Jesse squirmed around to face him, hiding against Hanzo's shoulder as he shuddered. 

Warm wetness struck Hanzo's skin, the drops sliding down his chest. Jesse's obvious relief was so powerful, Hanzo felt horribly guilty for entertaining even the slightest wish that this night would have ended otherwise. 

He knew he needed to unbind the ropes, but Jesse clearly wanted comfort more than he wanted to be free at the moment. It could wait. Instead, he stroked the coyote's hair and back, the touches soothing this time instead of arousing, and whined at his mate's distress.

Then he froze as the last thought registered. Mate. No, Jesse was not that, could never be that. Hanzo must not let himself even contemplate such a thing. 

No matter how much he wished it could be.


	6. Chapter 6

The day Jesse's indentured servitude to Hanzo ended, he woke to find himself alone in the pile of furs and blankets that served as their bed. Jesse was dismayed by the absence of his lover. He'd intended to teasingly demand that Hanzo 'serve' him for once, in the best possible way. 

Not that his mate didn't always make him feel fantastic, but Jesse thought it would be fun to be the one giving the orders. He even thought Hanzo might indulge him in the request to take charge, this one time. Or maybe every year on Jesse's birthday, or something.

Hanzo did often slip out in the early morning hours to go hunting, so it wasn't really a surprise, just a disappointment that he'd chosen this particular morning to do so. Yawning, Jesse rose and began his morning round of chores - though he left several undone that weren't urgent. Hanzo would be pulling his share of the weight from now on, and Jesse wanted to make that clear right from the start. 

Granted, Hanzo already did quite a bit of heavy lifting by doing most of the hunting, but there was no reason he couldn't chop wood or wash clothes on occasion. He must have done so before Jesse came along.

Humming happily to himself, Jesse set about making breakfast. He'd shown Hanzo how to build a smokehouse, and the wolf caught a wild boar at Jesse's request, so they had plenty of bacon. A couple of chickens in a penned yard outside gave them eggs, and the mingled scents of wolf and coyote in the area kept other predators away from the vulnerable birds. Jesse was able to make a proper breakfast these days. 

Proper by his standards, anyway. Hanzo grumbled about the amount of grease, but that's what he got for making Jesse do all the cooking.

By the time breakfast was done, Hanzo still hadn't shown up. Jesse ate his portion, waited a little longer, then set Hanzo's aside. It would get cold, but still be edible for lunch. He figured the wolf must be having trouble finding prey.

Except lunch came and went, still with no sign of him. Jesse ate the leftovers, trying not to fret too hard. It was unusual for Hanzo to be gone _all_ day, but not unheard of. Though, it was the first time he hadn't warned Jesse that he was planning to do so, first.

As the afternoon wore on, Jesse grew more and more concerned. Surely Hanzo didn't hate doing chores so much he'd stay out all day so Jesse couldn't make him do his share. That would be childish and petty, and Hanzo was neither. Was he hurt out there somewhere? Had he fallen, maybe injured a leg, and couldn't make it back to the cave? Maybe he'd gone after another boar, and been gored. He could be dying out there, and Jesse would never know.

He shifted to coyote and cast around for Hanzo's scent. It was rich and vibrant in the cave, and he'd already become very familiar with it. Outside, it took him a moment to sort out which trail was freshest, and then he followed it.

All of maybe a hundred feet, until it ended at a little stream. Jesse sniffed his way up and down river along both banks, but there was no sign that Hanzo had emerged. Either he'd waded in the stream a _really_ long way, or he'd masked his scent somehow. 

Frustrated and frantic with worry, Jesse returned to the cave. He didn't bother to make dinner, not wanting to waste food if Hanzo didn't make it back in time - and sure enough, there was still no sign of the wolf as darkness fell. 

Far too distressed to sleep, Jesse built up the fire and wrapped himself in one of the furs, huddling not so much for warmth as for comfort. What would he do if Hanzo didn't come home? He couldn't talk to wolves like his mate could, so it wasn't like he could ask them to go hunt for the man. There was an awful lot of forest out there, and he knew Hanzo could cover a lot of ground, so there really wasn't even a place for Jesse to start looking.

It was blacker than Satan's heart outside, with no moon to light the sky. The fire ruined his night sight, which didn't help. So when Hanzo _did_ finally return, it was as if the wolf appeared out of nowhere. One moment the cave entrance was empty, the next it was filled with Jesse's mate.

"Hanzo!" Jesse leapt up and threw himself at the wolf, wrapping his arms around the other man's neck in a death grip, hugging him tight. "You sonuvabitch, where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick that you were hurt out there somewhere and I'd never find you!"

"You... you are still here." Hanzo sounded like somebody'd hit him with a stupid stick, as if he barely understood the words he was saying. "I don't understand. It is the night of the dark moon. Jesse, today was the end of your servitude."

"Yeah, and I'm right pissed at you for leaving me to do all the chores on the first day you're supposed to help me with them," Jesse retorted. "You better have a damn good explanation for yourself, mister." 

Hanzo was still standing there, unmoving, not lifting his arms to hold Jesse in return. His expression was dazed, disbelieving. "Jesse, you are _free_. You do not need to stay. Did you fear you would not find your way?"

"Find my way where?" Jesse finally understood that Hanzo was confused because he'd expected to come back and find the cave empty. "Wait... wait. Are you... saying you want me to go?" Now he felt as stunned and dismayed as Hanzo looked. Here he'd been thinking of the wolf as his _mate_ , since that fateful full moon night, and Hanzo had only seen him as a temporary bed warmer?

"No!" Hanzo's immediate and shocked response did a great deal to reassure Jesse, but only left him further confused. "Of course I do not _want_ you to go. I have dreaded this day. But... but why would you stay? I am moody, and arrogant, and difficult to deal with. I am not someone people _wish_ to spend time with."

"What in tarnation are you talkin' about?" Jesse cocked his head, studying Hanzo. His lover had been very quiet and brooding over the last few days, but Jesse had chalked it up to a 'mood'. Apparently that mood was because he'd been expecting Jesse to walk out on him the moment he could honourably do so. 

"Yeah, you get in a snit sometimes, and you can be a tad snooty as well,” Jesse admitted. “There's days I wanna wring your neck, even. But that's normal. Nobody gets along perfectly all the time. I thought... I thought we had somethin' special. Something worth keeping, worth fighting for. You were just gonna let me walk off without even askin' me to stay?"

"You do not understand." Hanzo's anguish was so deep, Jesse swore he could feel it himself. "I am not fit company for anyone, not truly. You would come to hate and resent me, eventually. Even... even my own brother could not stand me, in the end. And after what I did to him, the dishonour I committed in my anger and arrogance, I deserve nothing better than to be alone forever. I have stolen this time with you, and I will cherish the memories forever, but I do not want things to end badly between us some day."

"Han, _every_ relationship ends sooner or later, even if it's only 'cause one of the partners dies," Jesse pointed out. "If you avoid ever bein' with someone you care about because it _might_ end badly, because one other relationship did, then yeah, you'll be alone forever. Of course you don't deserve that. It sucks that you got in a tiff with your brother, but..."

"It was not a 'tiff'," Hanzo interrupted, his face twisted with remorse and regret. "It was a fight, a _battle_. I lost my temper, and in a fit of drunken rage, I turned my spirit wolves on him. I killed him, horrifically. There can be no absolution for such a crime, no forgiveness. And how could I ever live with myself if I lost my temper with you, someday?"

Jesse felt like his whole body had gone numb, but his mind was moving faster that a gunslinger's quick draw. Killed his brother in a fit of rage. Turned a powerful spirit weapon on that brother. Japanese. Named Hanzo. 

Surely, it couldn't be Genji's brother. This had to be a coincidence, _had_ to be. Genji wasn't a wolf of any kind... and Jesse could not accept that he might have fallen in love with the man who'd betrayed and nearly killed Jesse's packmate.

"Hanzo?" Jesse's voice seemed to come from a long distance away, as if he was hearing himself through a tunnel. It was the first time he'd ever called the man by his full given name, without any endearments or nicknames. "This brother of yours... he was a wolf too, right? I mean, he'd have to be. He was your brother."

The anguish in Hanzo’s eyes was joined by confusion. "No. Youkai are spirits, we do not follow breeding patterns as humans do. Genji was a nekomata - a type of cat demon. Why do you ask?"

Well, that sealed it. Jesse laughed, a disbelieving and hopeless sound. "You're Genji's brother? You're the asshole that tore my packmate to pieces and nearly killed him? Here I thought the name was just a coincidence, maybe a really popular one or something."

"Packmate?" Hanzo stared at him. "How could you possibly have known him? We never left Japan, and he has been dead longer than you've been alive. W-what do you mean, _nearly_ killed?"

"I mean exactly that." Jesse wrenched himself away, only then realizing that Hanzo had finally lifted his hands to embrace Jesse back. Putting as much distance between them as he could in the small cave, Jesse paced back and forth in front of the pool. 

"You remember that oni I told you I knew? That was Genji. He said he had to let the demon possess him, that it was the only way he'd survived long enough to heal. He came here searching for new ways to train, to get strong enough so he could go back and do you the way you'd done him. Fell into our pack because he thought Reyes could teach him a thing or two."

"Genji... my brother is an _oni_?" Hanzo shook his head. "No. No, he would never... that is impossible. You must be mistaken." Hanzo sounded desperate to believe his own denial.

"He smelled like a cat, when I could smell anything under the stink of the oni," Jesse continued ruthlessly. "That's why I knew the name had to be a coincidence. Or so I thought. Fuck, Hanzo, how could you do that to him? Your own brother!"

"As I said." Hanzo bowed his head, not meeting Jesse's eyes. "It was an unforgivable act. You see, now, why I say I do not deserve to have you with me. Solitude is the least of the punishments I should bear."

Jesse couldn't argue with him - and the worst part was, he _wanted_ to. He'd fallen for Hanzo, so hard and fast he was sometimes dizzy with it. The wolf had given him a place to belong again, a pack that cared about him. A home. More than anything, Jesse wanted to cling to that.

"I..." Jesse faltered, unable to figure out what he even wanted to say. "I need to think about this," he settled on. 

"What is there to consider?" Hanzo was so clearly miserable that Jesse had to fight the urge to reach out and comfort him. "You should go, and never look back. Or rather, I should go, and leave this place to you if you care to use it." He looked around the cave, his gaze haunted. "There will be too many memories here for me to bear it alone."

"Don't you dare leave," Jesse snapped. "You vanished all goddamn day without even givin' me a chance to talk to you. I said I need to _think_ about it. If you disappear on me again, then you'll never know if I mighta decided you were worth it, will you?"

With that he transformed to his coyote self, and bounded out of the cave. He didn't want to hear any more arguments, or fight with Hanzo about whether the wolf deserved to have him at all. How could Jesse even talk about that, when he hadn't made up his own mind on the subject?

He loped downward, off the mountain, until he finally found the edge of the open plains. He paused to mark the spot where he'd left the forest so he could find it again easily, then started running. And running, and running, pushing his body to the limits, letting the effort wash all the thoughts right out of his head. Jesse gave himself over to coyote instincts, letting his other half have the reins for once, and just enjoyed the thrill of racing the wind.

It was pitch black; the ‘ink dark moon’, Hanzo had once called it. His coyote eyes could see well in the dark, but tonight even he had to strain. He startled a sleeping rabbit into bounding away, and ran it to ground. It made a good snack, but pausing to eat it meant he'd stopped running, and that let the human thoughts creep back in at last.

What the hell was he going to do? On the one hand, being with Hanzo felt like a horrible betrayal of Genji, who had been Jesse's pack first, and much longer. More than that, Jesse had already betrayed Genji once, by running off when Reyes escaped on the full moon, leaving the Japanese man to die. Perhaps that wasn't quite as bad as what Hanzo had done to his brother, but it wasn't exactly honourable behaviour. He very much doubted the oni would ever forgive him, if he'd survived.

The odds of Genji surviving that attack were slim to none, though. He'd already had one miracle, it was unlikely he'd get another one. Though who knew, with him. Genji was a slippery bastard, hard to fight and harder to pin down. Maybe he was out there somewhere, roaming the world alone once more, searching for a way to have his revenge.

On the other hand, Genji _was_ likely dead, and if he wasn't, he was far from here and would never be pack again. Did it really make sense for Jesse to deny himself the best thing that had ever happened to him, because of loyalty to a packmate he'd never see again? 

He couldn't use the 'Genji would want him to be happy' argument, because the oni hadn't really cared much about anybody's happiness. And that was its own point, because if Genji had never cared for Jesse in the first place, why should Jesse sacrifice that happiness for his sake?

On yet another hand, was Hanzo right that _he_ didn't deserve any happiness? What he'd done to Genji was pretty damn unforgivable. Turning on his brother, nearly killing the guy in a fit of drunken anger... Jesse hadn't seen any sign of that kind of rage in Hanzo so far, but what if he'd been on his best behaviour? What if he was right, and he'd turn on Jesse too, eventually? Maybe it was just the nature of the wolf, his own version of the madness and bloodlust that eventually overtook all werewolves.

Wores, what if Jesse betrayed Genji's memory and selfishly went back, only to discover that this knowledge had permanently tainted his bond with Hanzo? Then he'd have broken faith with Genji, and all for nothing. 

Through all the confusion and dithering, the only thing Jesse wanted to do was go back and curl up in Hanzo's arms, let the wolf hold and comfort him like he had on the night of the full moon. Maybe distract him from the horrible thoughts the same way he had that night, too. The longing filled him full to bursting, but at the same time left him feeling empty and hollow without Hanzo's warmth next to him.

What the fuck was Jesse going to do?


	7. Chapter 7

Hanzo did not expect to ever see Jesse again. The coyote would come to his senses sooner or later - truly, Hanzo didn't understand why there was even a question. Still, Hanzo sat by the fire, wrapped in the fur Jesse had been wearing, soaking up the coyote's scent. It might be the last time he ever smelled it fresh, and in a matter of days or perhaps weeks, it would fade from the cave entirely.

Assuming Hanzo was still here by then. As he'd said, the memories in this place would haunt him; though he'd been here for years, and Jesse for only a month, it had become 'theirs' in a way Hanzo could not hope to define. Even now he felt as though if he turned around, Jesse would surely be there, bathing or doing some chore. Or perhaps readying himself for the night, sprawled naked and wanton over their combined bedrolls, waiting for Hanzo to ravish him with pleasure.

Groaning, Hanzo rubbed at his face with his hands. The thought made his cock stiffen, but it was a futile fantasy. He would never feel Jesse's flesh against him again, never hear the coyote shout his name in ecstasy. Hanzo had spent most of last night fucking the other man, drawing the pleasure out as long as he possibly could, knowing Jesse would certainly be gone the next day. Even so, it felt like not nearly enough of a memory to treasure forever.

Coming back to the cave tonight to find Jesse still there had been the single greatest shock of Hanzo's life. For one shining moment, he'd thought perhaps they did have a chance to be together, to overcome the past and find a new life and happiness with each other. Though he'd argued for all the reasons why Jesse should leave him and never look back, Hanzo had prayed the coyote would be his usual stubborn self and refuse to listen.

Perhaps he _should_ stay in this haunted place. Wasn't torment exactly what he deserved for his sins? Now he'd hurt Jesse too, though he'd never meant to. That he could have no way of knowing Jesse had ever been connected to Genji was irrelevant.

The fact that _Genji had lived_ , only to die alone and far from home, consumed by a demon… Hanzo wasn’t even close to being able to deal with that information, yet. He wasn’t sure he ever would be. 

For now, he waited, his foolish heart hoping against hope that Jesse _would_ return, would find it in him to forgive the unforgivable, and take Hanzo back. 

Some time long after midnight, a rustle in the bushes outside drew Hanzo's attention. He held his breath, certain it would only be a fox come to steal the chickens, but it was a coyote that padded out of the night and into the entrance of the cave. He stopped there, the firelight turning his coat reddish and golden, eyes gleaming. There was no question it was Jesse; though Hanzo had only seen him in coyote form a handful of times, the scent was unmistakable, as was the intelligence in that pale gaze.

"Jesse." Hanzo's voice came out hoarse, ragged. He cleared his throat and tried again, but it wasn't much of an improvement. "You came back. I... I did not expect you to." 

Perhaps he'd returned only to let Hanzo know the inevitable outcome of his decision. That would be very like Jesse, with his kind heart and loyal nature, not to want to leave Hanzo hanging even though they both knew what the answer had to be.

Hanzo's fingers itched to stroke that coarse fur, bury themselves in Jesse's ruff and cling as he pled for the coyote not to leave. He wanted to shift to his own wolf form and curl around the coyote, holding him safe and protected by Hanzo's much larger bulk. But most of all, he wanted Jesse to transform, so that Hanzo could embrace him properly, and pretend none of this nightmare had ever happened and the new moon was still days away.

He got one part of his wish; Jesse shifted back to human, dressed in his jeans and the button-down shirt Hanzo had purchased for him at a nearby human settlement. He looked rugged and windblown, as if his fur had been ruffled by running and it translated to his human hair as well.

"Tell me again _why_ you attacked and hurt Genji like that," Jesse demanded, and his voice was every bit as rough as Hanzo's. "I need to know."

"To my great shame, I lost my temper with him in the worst possible way," Hanzo admitted, lowering his eyes to the fire because he couldn't meet Jesse's steady, judging gaze. "We had grown increasingly short with each other over the years. His carefree nature irritated me to no end, and he accused me of being too arrogant and set in my ways in turn. It seemed to me that he never took anything seriously, and he enjoyed taunting me far too much. None of that excuses what I did."

His mind filled with images of that terrible night; the shouts and gesturing, the threats and posturing. They'd both been so _angry_. "I can't even remember what we fought about that time," he said. "Some trivial thing, no doubt. We were both drunk, but I pulled my blade first. I don't know what I thought that would accomplish; it certainly wasn't going to intimidate Genji into backing down and giving way to me. I cannot blame him for drawing his in turn, if only to defend himself."

At the time, Hanzo had seen it as answering aggression. In his memories, he recalled the paleness of Genji's face, the fear in his brother's eyes as Hanzo advanced on him. Hanzo wasn't certain which was reality; whether guilt had painted his memory, or alcohol had masked the truth when it happened. 

Swallowing, he forced himself to continue. "I struck the initial blow. He fought well; he had been my sparring partner for centuries, and we knew each other's rhythm and motions so well we could have fought in our sleep. The one thing he did not expect was for me to summon my wolves against him. I only remember being furious, and I thought to teach him a lesson, remind him that I was the elder and superior."

Genji's terror in _this_ memory, Hanzo knew was real. How could it be otherwise, when Genji saw a horrible death coming toward him? There had been nowhere for him to dodge, with a cliff edge at his back and the wolves taking up all the space around him. He'd summoned his own beast spirit, but the cat had no chance against the powerful wolves.

"He was destroyed utterly." Hanzo's voice broke at the memory. "There was nothing left of him even to bury. When I came to my senses the next day, I built a cairn for him, and left my sword before it. I have not touched a blade since that night." 

And now, he found out that Genji had, impossibly, survived. He must have gone over the cliff edge to save himself, but that would have left him broken and bleeding on the rocky shore far below.

How long had he lain there, before the oni came to him? How long had his brother resisted the temptation of the demon, before giving in to save himself? Or had Genji embraced the oni's hatred and poison readily, lost in the need for vengeance?

There was a long, oppressive silence. Finally Hanzo looked up, unable to take the stillness a moment longer. To his shock, the expression on Jesse's face wasn't disgust or hatred, but uncertainty. The coyote sighed heavily, ears flattened with sorrow more than anger. 

"I ain't seen you drink heavy since I got here," Jesse said, which was the last topic Hanzo had expected. "That somethin' you do regular?"

Figuring he owed Jesse whatever answers the coyote wished, regardless of how odd, Hanzo shrugged. "There have been periods when I attempted to drown my sorrow in the bottom of a sake bottle - or barrel. I did not have access to it in this land, and though I occasionally regretted that when the nightmares haunted me, since you joined me, I have not felt the need."

Jesse's warm, lithe body against his was a far better ward against Hanzo's demons than the ofuda prayers of the most powerful Shinto priestess. That loss, even more than the sex, was what Hanzo dreaded most. 

"And your temper?" Jesse persisted. "I mean, I've seen you get all growly and grouchy, and you've snapped at me on occasion, but I've never seen you _really_ mad. You just been on your best behaviour to impress me, and that'll change eventually?"

"I have done my best to learn to control my temper since then." Hanzo shook his head. "What right have I to be angry at anyone else, when my own sins are so dark? Though I have indeed wanted to keep you happy, and that has mitigated my moods somewhat."

"Well, then, sounds like you've done a lot to try to avoid makin' the same mistakes again," Jesse said. "Nobody's perfect, darlin'. You did a horrible thing, but it wasn't intentional and you're tryin' to make up for it as best you can. That's all anyone can ask from a man. I've done my own bad things, and caused the deaths of people I loved. Truth is, I'm a selfish, cowardly bastard. I don't _want_ to give you up, and the happiness I've found here. Unless you tell me to leave, I ain't goin' nowhere."

"You... you are staying?" Saying the words out loud didn't cause them to make more sense. "Jesse, you deserve so much better."

"Maybe, maybe not." Jesse sidled around the fire, and sank down to kneel in front of Hanzo. He took Hanzo's hands in his, looking earnestly into the wolf's eyes. "Whether I deserve it or not, sure as hell I ain't never _found_ anything better. So why should I deny myself the best thing that's ever happened to me, because I 'deserve' better? Then I'd just be makin' myself miserable for nothin'."

Hanzo could not argue with that logic. Reaching out, Hanzo cupped the back of Jesse's head, digging his fingers into the man's thick hair. "If you stay, I will never release you," he warned, gruff with need. "I have been forced to constantly remind myself this last month that I must let you go in the end. I am jealous, and possessive. If you are mine, then you are _mine_."

"Hanzo, I've been yours heart and soul since the night of the full moon," Jesse told him, wrapping his arms around Hanzo's neck in turn. He smiled. "Goes both ways, just so you know. You're _my_ mate, and you ain't allowed to touch nobody else."

"Mate?" Hanzo felt the word like a strike to the chest, making his heart squeeze and stutter in reaction. He'd been struggling _so_ hard not to think of Jesse that way, not to imagine they had that depth of a bond, because he knew Jesse would leave and he couldn't bear the pain of losing a mate instead of a lover.

Suddenly Jesse looked unsure. "I mean. Yeah? I thought... unless you don't wanna be. Maybe I was just imaginin'..."

Unable to find words that could possibly encompass the depth of his feelings in that moment, Hanzo chose to eschew language entirely. Clenching his hand in Jesse's hair, he pulled the other man in for a hot, hard kiss, putting all of his heart and soul into the embrace.

Jesse responded immediately, groaning as he melted into the embrace. He was eager and willing, opening to Hanzo's rather frantic assault, meeting Hanzo's need with his own. Having thought he would never touch this man - _his mate_ \- again, Hanzo wanted to drown himself in the taste and scent and feel of Jesse.

They tore at each other's clothes, desperate for skin to skin contact. Hanzo had learned the trick to the tiny buttons that kept Jesse's shirts closed, but tonight he didn't have the patience for them. He yanked at the shirtfront hard, buttons popping off to go flying through the cave. Normally that would prompt a mumbled protest, but Jesse only groaned and tugged at Hanzo's sash in turn. 

"Show me the real you," Jesse demanded, as he often did during sex. Hanzo had told him many times that the human form was as much the 'real him' as his wolf form and the in-between spirit form, but he loved the way Jesse's eyes lit up to see Hanzo with ears and tail that matched the coyote's. Hanzo let the wolf spirit flow through him, turning his eyes gold and shifting the pelt he wore to be more a true part of him.

Sure enough, Jesse smiled in delight and reached up to stroke Hanzo's furry ears, rubbing at the base and then petting up the length of them, before returning to the base again. Hanzo enjoyed being able to give Jesse this small thing, this feeling of belonging - but he also _really_ enjoyed the petting.

" _Mine_ ," Hanzo growled again, as he slicked his member and positioned himself to thrust home in Jesse's body. 'Home' was the right word... he'd never felt so much like he was meant to be somewhere. 

"Yours," Jesse agreed, the word coming out broken as the head of Hanzo's cock breached the tight ring of muscle. Hanzo hadn't done nearly enough to prepare him, but Jesse didn't seem to be protesting. His head fell back, opening up the line of his throat in clear invitation, and Hanzo gripped it with his lengthened canines in a display of dominance.

Jesse moaned again, and his body squeezed tight around Hanzo's cock. When Hanzo started to thrust, Jesse met him stroke for stroke, hips rising and falling in time with Hanzo's rhythm. He whimpered with each thrust, a sound of dazed pleasure and need that spurred Hanzo to still greater heights of need.

Sliding his hand beneath Jesse's ass, Hanzo lifted him for a better angle, and Jesse shouted as Hanzo's cock rubbed against the pleasure spot inside him. The new position also allowed Hanzo to bury his fingers in the fur at the base of Jesse's coyote tail, which he'd discovered was a highly sensitive place. Sure enough Jesse yipped and squirmed, trying both to get away from the stimulation and to arch into it at the same time. 

"You're mine, too," Jesse murmured, hands clenching in the fur at the nape of Hanzo's neck. "Mine forever."

"Yes," Hanzo agreed, as broken and ragged as Jesse had been when saying the same. It wasn't all from lust; the shock of relief and release from admitting the truth of their bond was nearly as powerful as the sexual release that was coming. "Always."

They rode the rhythm together, bodies moving in perfect sync, each giving the other as much pleasure as they knew how to. When Hanzo emptied his seed into Jesse's body, nothing had ever felt more right, more _necessary_. They truly belonged to each other.

After, they cuddled in front of the dying fire, drowsing in each other's arms, too lazy and content to move to the rest of the blankets. As always in these moments, Hanzo tried hard not to think about how little time he had left with Jesse.

Before, such thoughts had been dread for the end of this month of heaven. Now Jesse was staying, and Hanzo could hardly encompass his joy and relief in words. But in the back of his mind was still the knowledge that Jesse was not a true, enduring spirit like Hanzo. The coyote was in his _thirties_ , a bare handful of decades of life, still a baby by youkai standards. He would likely have only a scant few more decades, a human's mayfly lifespan, gone in the blink of an eye.

Hanzo would treasure every day, save up each memory, but it would never be enough. He'd told Jesse the absolute truth - he belonged to the coyote, heart and soul, _forever_. Long after Jesse was gone, Hanzo would still cherish him, and nobody else.


	8. Chapter 8

Jesse was mending yet another shirt Hanzo had ripped the buttons off of, when he heard the door open. They'd made several improvements to the cave over the years, turning it into a proper - if somewhat humble - home, and the door was one of the first things Jesse had asked for. Hanzo apparently didn't feel the bitter cold of winter, but even with his fur on, Jesse certainly did.

He glanced up, a greeting ready on his lips, surprised Hanzo would have returned already. The wolf had said he'd be gone the better part of the day, making a trip to the nearest town for staples they couldn't make themselves, and it was only mid-afternoon. 

To his shock, it wasn't Hanzo standing there, but a stranger in full armour and a mask carved like a snarling cat. There was a long, thin sword slung over the man's back, and he moved like the cat his mask depicted, prowling into the entrance.

Jumping to his feet, Jesse dropped his lapful of fabric and reached for his six-shooter. "Hold it right there, stranger," he said, his voice cold. "This here's a private residence. Where I come from, it's considered polite to knock."

The strange man cocked his head. It was impossible to read his expression beneath the mask, and the heavy armour and fur of his outfit made it difficult to read his body language. But when he spoke, the shock and disbelief in his voice was clear. "McCree?"

Jesse knew that voice, though he hadn't heard it in a dog's age. There was a distinctive roughness, caused by damage to the man's throat, and a familiar heavy accent that was a near match for Hanzo's. He stared at the man, just as shocked. " _Genji_? Is that really you?"

"Yes. It is I." To Jesse's further surprise, Genji's voice actually warmed. He didn't think he'd ever heard the oni sound anything other than cold and dismissive. "I never thought I would find you again. It is good to see you well."

Though he knew the man didn't much like physical contact, Jesse threw himself at Genji in an enthusiastic hug. This once, the oni could grin and bear it. "I thought you were dead! How the hell did you survive Gabriel goin’ loco? Where’ve you been all this time?"

"Without our pack to hold me in one place, I returned to my wandering," Genji admitted. He even wrapped his arms around Jesse in turn, instead of pushing the coyote away. "I am sorry, McCree. When Reyes chased you off, I could not reach you to help you."

Chased him off... was that what Genji believed had happened? Jesse wavered, tempted to let him continue believing so, but he couldn't live with the lie forever. It would eat away at him inside. "He didn't chase me off, Genji. I ran, like a coward. I should've stayed to fight with the rest of you. I'm so sorry."

For a long moment Genji appeared to consider that - or maybe he was just lost in his own thoughts, it was impossible to tell with the mask. "You made the right decision," was his shocking declaration. "Truthfully, I managed no better. The oni cared for nothing but its own survival. I fought, but in his madness and with the power of the full moon upon him, Reyes was stronger than me. When it was clear I would be overwhelmed, I fled as well."

All this time, Jesse had been so certain Genji would blame and resent him, considering the oni was a demon of vengeance. He was humbled and freed by the absolution, even if he couldn't quite convince himself that it was true he'd done the right thing. And if Genji had survived... "Gabriel? Moira? Did you see what happened to them? Any chance they're still out there too?"

"McCree..." Genji sounded torn, like he wasn't certain what to say next. "Did you not know? Reyes didn’t ‘happen’ to get loose, that night. Moira had been drawn into Talon some time before, and she agreed to deliver our pack to them. She corrupted Reyes somehow, convinced him that he deserved more and better than our ragtag little group. Perhaps it was the madness finally catching up to him. He is now the Alpha of the Talon pack."

"What?" There had been too many shocks in a short period, and unlike all the rest, this one was _far_ from welcome. Jesse's mind refused to absorb the information. "That's not... that can't be right. What are you sayin'? Why would Reyes _plan_ to attack us?"

"Because he wanted us - you and I - to join him in Talon, and he knew neither of us would ever agree if not forced. I believe he hoped to infect us, though he could not have succeeded with me." Up close, Genji's eyes were visible through the mask, and there was a distinct sadness in them as he regarded Jesse. "You were closer to Reyes than I. You must have seen the signs."

Looking back on it, Jesse realized he had. Reyes had been increasingly snappish, moody, and aggressive. He'd held off the madness decades longer than any other werewolf Jesse had ever heard of, but the sickness had to win eventually. He _had_ been talking a lot about expanding their pack, about how they were too vulnerable with such a small group. 

Jesse had deliberately ignored it, refusing to let himself think about whether Reyes might finally be succumbing to the werewolf. Reyes had been his hero. In Jesse’s mind, he was eternally strong and powerful, and could do no wrong. 

If Reyes was leading Talon, and wanted Jesse turned werewolf in order to force Jesse to join him… fuck, that explained why the Talon hunting packs had been after him for so long. Why they’d hurt him and run him to exhaustion when they did find him, but hadn’t killed him. They were under orders to do exactly that.

Lifting his hands, Genji braced Jesse by the shoulders, maybe understanding that it was too much for the coyote to take in. Or maybe Jesse had actually been swaying, because it certainly felt like his knees wanted to give out.

"Perhaps," Genji said, though his tone implied he didn't believe whatever he was about to say, "in whatever sane part of his mind that remained, he hoped you _would_ run, that the attack would chase you off and protect you from him."

It sounded pretty, but Jesse doubted it was true. In the end, it didn't matter. He'd found a new home, and a new love. Hanzo could be just as grumpy and growly and moody as Gabriel had ever been, but beneath it...

Hanzo.

Chills ran down Jesse's spine as he remembered why it wasn't a good thing that Genji had somehow found him here. Because the oni's surprise at seeing Jesse meant it _wasn't_ Jesse he'd been tracking... it was Hanzo. And he surely meant to finally take his revenge.

Jerking away from Genji's hold, Jesse backed up as far as he could in the small space, hand hovering over his gun again. "I won't let you hurt Han," he snapped, ears laid flat and tail quivering with aggression. "I know you got every right to hate him and want vengeance. What he did to you was unforgivable. But you'll have to go through me if you want to get to him."

This time, he refused to run. He would stand his ground and defend his mate, even if it killed him. Jesse had finally found something worth dying for.

Though he really, really didn't _want_ to die. Genji could tear him apart in close quarters and they both knew it. Frantic, Jesse cast around, searching for anything that would give him an advantage, or somehow warn Hanzo to stay away and never return.

"You are defending him." Genji sounded more bemused than upset, but that would surely change soon enough. "Your scent permeates this place as much as his does. McCree, how on earth did you..."

"Get away from him!" Hanzo's voice rang in the cave, his tone harsh and threatening. Jesse looked over Genji's shoulder to see his mate standing in the doorway, Stormbow raised and drawn, arrow aimed straight for Genji's throat where the armour was weakest.

Of _course_ Hanzo would come home early after all, at the worst possible moment. Groaning, Jesse debated whether drawing his gun would make the situation worse, or better. Probably worse.

Genji turned, hand coming up to rest on the hilt of the long sword at his back. He paused when he saw Hanzo. Jesse had expected him to go right for the wolf's throat. Maybe he wanted to be sure Hanzo knew who it was that killed him.

"No!" Desperate to stop the coming slaughter, Jesse threw himself forward, putting himself physically between the brothers. He held his hands out, one toward each of them, as if he could physically stop them from attacking. "Genji, please, I'm beggin' you. For the sake of any affection you once had for me, don't force me to fight you to protect him! Because I will. Damn it, I will."

" _Genji_?" Hanzo said the name with as much shock as Jesse had earlier, but without the happy overtone. His aim wavered, draw slackening, as he stared. Then his expression hardened, and he drew the bow back fully, blue energy coiling tight around the arrow as he called on his wolf spirits. "I said, get away from him," he snarled. "I will fight you if that is what your thirst for vengeance demands, but I will not allow you to harm Jesse!"

Genji looked from one to the other of them. He still hadn't drawn his sword, though familiar green energy built around it in response to Hanzo's wolves. The oni wanted out, thirsty for blood. "You would die for each other?"

"He's my mate," Jesse told him, chin raised defiantly. "You're damn right I'll die for him. You can't take both of us, Genji. Let go of the sword, please."

"You could not stop me," Genji laughed. It was a disconcertingly warm sound, full of genuine - if inappropriate - amusement. Jesse didn't think he'd ever heard the man laugh before. "McCree, I would cut you to pieces long before you shot me, and you know it."

"Not before I loosed the wolves," Hanzo replied, voice cold. "Jesse is right, you cannot fight one of us without being vulnerable to the other."

"You might be surprised." Genji's eyes shone behind the mask, reflecting the light as a cat's would. Jesse frowned. He'd seen Genji's eyes glow before, but it had always been a hellish red colour, not a pure golden gleam like this. "I have learned many things and become much stronger since I saw you last, brother. Lower your bow, and I will release the sword."

"Release the sword, and I will lower my bow," Hanzo retorted.

That was it; Mexican standoff. Jesse didn't see any way they were all going to get out of this alive. It made him sick to think of having to fight Genji, hurt his packmate, but he would if he had to. He tensed, ready to go for a quick draw, hoping Genji would see Hanzo as the bigger threat, and Hanzo would somehow dodge. If Genji went for Jesse first, Hanzo might beat his brother, but Jesse would already be in pieces.

Except Genji nodded, and released his sword. He even spread his hands in front of him a universal 'I have no weapons' posture. "Lay down your weapon, Hanzo. I mean you no harm. Either of you."

Hanzo frowned, suspicious of the seemingly easy capitulation. "Jesse said you had been possessed by an oni. They do _not_ give up on a fight, or on vengeance."

"Which is why I spent years cleansing myself of it." Genji bowed his head. "It was a long and painful process, and I required a great deal of help from those wiser than myself. After the battle with Reyes, the oni attempted to drive me with a thirst for vengeance against him equally as great as that I held for you, brother. I realized then that it was not helping me, and if ever I gave it what it truly wanted, the demon would consume me completely. Even so, it took meeting a very holy monk to realize that I _could_ free myself of it, if only I forgave you."

"Forgave me?" Hanzo repeated the words like he thought he was saying them wrong, or misunderstanding. Jesse felt much the same. Genji had been obsessed with revenge for all the years Jesse had known him. The idea of the oni ever forgiving his brother was unthinkable.

And yet, he said he was no longer an oni at all. Stepping toward him, Jesse drew in a deep breath. "Your scent's changed," he realized. "That shouldn't be possible, but... you don't smell like a demon no more. You smell kinda like a mountain lion, one of the big hunting cats."

"Tiger," Genji replied, and once again there was real amusement in his voice. "What you smell is the White Tiger. I am no longer an oni, but I had to give myself over to a higher power to accomplish that."

"You are an avatar of Byakko?" Hanzo finally lowered his bow, more as if he'd forgotten he held it than a deliberate lessening of aggression.

"Baihu," Genji corrected him. "But yes, essentially. A different face of the same god. I swear to you, both of you, I came in peace. I am truly gladdened to have found both of you together, making each other happy. But how did that ever come about?"

"Long story," Jesse drawled, finally relaxing now that it appeared there would be no bloodshed. "You oughta stay a spell, and hear it."

"If I am welcome." For the first time, Genji sounded uncertain, and his eyes were on Hanzo. "I did not expect to do more than let you know that I was alive, and forgave you."

"What, you thought he'd chase you off again?" Jesse grabbed Hanzo's hand, and towed the still-shocked and unresisting wolf closer to Genji. "You're family, Genji. Of course you're welcome."

"I know my brother," Genji replied wryly. "I assumed he would be punishing and tormenting himself with guilt, and discovering I was alive would be a shock in such a way that he could not accept it, nor accept my forgiveness. It appears you've done a great deal to improve him, McCree."

Reaching Genji, Jesse looped his arm around the other man's waist again, and hugged him one-sided. On the other side, he yanked on Hanzo's hand, trying to get him to join in. "C'mon, Han," Jesse coaxed. "Your brother's alive, and not trying to kill you. You've spent all this time regretting what happened and missing him. The least you could do is give him a hug to welcome him home."

Genji laughed, a merry sound. "I appreciate the sentiment, but you might as well save your..." He broke off in astonishment as Hanzo slipped an arm around him, on the opposite side of Jesse, and hugged his brother awkwardly.

"Welcome home, Genji," Hanzo murmured, stiff and uncomfortable, but clearly sincere. "I can never make up for what I did, but..."

Genji cut his brother off in turn, hugging back hard enough to make Hanzo grunt. "There is no need to make up for it," he insisted, his voice husky. "It is in the past, and you have punished yourself more than enough. I would not be who I am today if I had not gone through all the hell first, and I am happy to be Baihu's avatar. It is a great honour."

Turning his head, he looked at Jesse. "You really have been a good influence on him, McCree."

"Jesse," he corrected his packmate - and now family. "I told you years ago you could call me that, but now I'm gonna insist."

"He will be most persistent about it," Hanzo added. His attempt at a long-suffering tone was ruined by the affectionate smile that he probably didn't realize was on his lips.

"Jesse," Genji conceded, and Jesse was pretty sure the tiger was smiling. Lifting one hand away from Hanzo, he ruffled Jesse's hair, scratching at the base of his coyote ears. Jesse tried not to melt into the touch too obviously, but he was so damn happy to have one of his pack returned to him.

"Cease that at once," Hanzo snapped. "Do not molest my mate. I am the only one permitted to put that look on his face."

Snickering, Genji obeyed, pulling out of the hug entirely. "Sorry, anija. I've wanted to do that for years. He looks so cute."

"You have?" Jesse stared at him yet again. "I don't think you ever once touched me, back then."

"No." Sorrow crept into Genji's tone. "I was too locked in my own torment and hatred. But some small part of me survived within the oni's grasp, and I missed friendly contact. I just couldn't express it."

"Well, I'm glad you can now." Jesse smiled back at him. "You're welcome to a hug any time you like."

Genji dipped his head, somewhere between a nod and a bow. "I am glad that I have found you. In my travels, I encountered another like you - a coyote spirit. She was a full-blood Navajo, and said that the god Coyote would sometimes visit the world in human form, and sire children like her. You told me once that your mother claimed your father was Native, did you not?"

"What? I mean... yeah, but..." Jesse sputtered. "You sayin' I'm half _god_?" 

He'd heard a few scattered stories about Coyote over the years, had no idea how accurate any of them might be. With no knowledge of what specific tribe his father might be from, and as light-skinned as Jesse was, he'd never bothered to seek out that side of his heritage. He hadn't even been sure he was Navajo, though that was the dominant Native presence in the place where his mom had met his dad.

"The little kind, not the all-powerful kind." Genji shrugged. "The woman I met had no particular abilities other than being able to change instantly, as you do... and the fact that she was over three centuries old."

"Three... _what_?" Jesse had grown at the same rate as every other kid, so he'd assumed that he would continue to do so until he died of a normal human lifespan. "I mean, just 'cause she lived that long, doesn't mean I will..."

"You have not aged a day since I saw you last," Genji told him. "And that was more than ten years ago. Indeed, without the beard, I think you would look half your age."

Jesse _had_ grown the beard in the first place because he was tired of being a baby-face, treated as though he was still barely more than a teen. But he hadn't considered the possible implications of that.

Hanzo gripped Genji's arm, suddenly intent, his eyes wide. "You are saying he will _not_ die in a mere few decades?" He sounded frantic, like a man trapped in quicksand who'd been thrown an unexpected lifeline.

His mate's panic hit Jesse hard, and he felt bad for not realizing how terrified the long-lived youkai would surely be of that possibility. When he'd thought about spending the rest of his life with Hanzo, it somehow hadn't occurred to him that Hanzo's life would go on long after Jesse's was over.

Except now Genji was saying that might not be true.

"Not of old age," Genji confirmed. "Likely not of illness, either. The Navajo coyote said she had never been sick a day in her life."

"The werewolf virus," Jesse realized, heart leaping. " _That's_ why I didn't turn! It couldn't infect me. I couldn't understand how I got so lucky, after gettin' bit and mauled that bad." And if the immunity to illness was the same for him as for the other coyote, then perhaps the age thing was as well.

Hanzo pulled Jesse into a hug, so tight it made his ribs ache. "I will not lose you," he murmured, his voice ragged with emotion. "I have feared that day so much. Ah, my heart, what would I have done without you?"

"Looks like we won't need to find out." Jesse hugged back, just as tight. He wasn't immortal, he could still be killed. And 'long-lived' might not be the same as 'living forever', but that was true of Hanzo as well. The important part was that Jesse would have potentially _centuries_ longer with Hanzo than he'd expected. "I intend to make sure every one of those years is filled with joy for us," he added, just as husky as Hanzo.

"We are certainly off to a good start," Hanzo agreed. His gaze was down, and Jesse suspected it was because he didn't want Jesse to see the shine of tears in his eyes. 

"Okay, you're too adorable," Genji declared, and this time he was the one who pounced them both in a group hug. "Guess it's a good thing I found you both."

Wallowing in the double embrace, and in the knowledge of how deeply Hanzo loved him, Jesse had never been so happy in his life.


End file.
